#session initiation protocol

[wholesalevoice]

What Features Are Offered by Leading SIP Trunk Providers?

When it comes to business communication, having a reliable and efficient system in place is crucial. That's where SIP trunk providers come in. They offer a range of features that can enhance your communication infrastructure and take it to the next level. From VoIP integration and call routing to PSTN connectivity, leading SIP trunk providers have it all.

Imagine seamlessly integrating your VoIP system with your existing infrastructure. With SIP trunking, this becomes a reality. Leading providers offer robust VoIP integration capabilities, allowing you to streamline your communication channels and improve overall business efficiency. Whether you need unified communications or advanced call features, SIP trunk providers have the tools to make it happen.

PSTN connectivity plays a vital role in ensuring reliable communication between SIP trunks and traditional phone systems. With leading SIP trunk providers, you can count on robust PSTN connectivity that enables crystal-clear voice quality and uninterrupted communication. Their SIP gateways act as a bridge between the digital and analog worlds, ensuring seamless connectivity and eliminating any potential disruptions.

Efficient call routing is another feature offered by leading SIP trunk providers. They leverage advanced technologies to optimize call routing, saving you costs and improving the overall call experience. Intelligent call routing directs calls to the most appropriate endpoints, ensuring that they reach the right destination quickly and efficiently.

But it doesn't stop there. Leading SIP trunk providers also offer wholesale voice solutions for enterprise needs. Whether you require scalable and flexible communication options or comprehensive disaster recovery solutions, these providers have you covered. They understand the unique requirements of businesses and provide tailored solutions to meet those needs.

When selecting a SIP trunk provider, factors such as quality of service, security features, and service level agreements should also be considered. Leading providers prioritize these aspects, ensuring that you receive a reliable, secure, and high-quality communication experience.

In this article, we will delve deeper into the features offered by leading SIP trunk providers, explore real-world case studies, and provide you with a comprehensive guide on selecting the right provider for your business. Stay tuned to discover how partnering with a leading SIP trunk provider can revolutionize your business communication.

Understanding SIP Trunking Services

SIP trunking services, offered by reputable SIP Trunk Providers, have become a vital component of modern communication systems. Using the session initiation protocol (SIP), businesses can connect their private branch exchange (PBX) systems to the public switched telephone network (PSTN) through an internet connection.

With SIP trunking, traditional phone lines are replaced with virtual connections, allowing businesses to make and receive calls over the internet. This eliminates the need for separate physical phone lines and enables cost-effective and efficient communication.

One of the key benefits of SIP trunking is its flexibility. Unlike traditional phone systems, which have a fixed number of lines, SIP trunks can be easily scaled up or down to accommodate the changing needs of businesses. This scalability allows for better resource allocation and cost savings.

SIP trunking also offers improved call quality and reliability. By leveraging the internet for voice transmission, businesses can enjoy high-definition audio and clearer conversations. Moreover, SIP trunk providers often include robust redundancy and disaster recovery solutions, ensuring uninterrupted communication even during unforeseen events.

Another advantage of SIP trunking is its ability to enable PSTN connectivity. Businesses can connect their SIP trunks to traditional phone systems, allowing them to make and receive calls using existing hardware. This integration helps organizations leverage their existing infrastructure while enjoying the benefits of SIP trunking.

Overall, by adopting SIP trunking services from reputable providers, businesses can streamline their communication systems, reduce costs, and enhance their overall productivity. The next section will explore the integration of VoIP systems with SIP trunking, highlighting the benefits of this unified approach.

VoIP Integration for Enhanced Communication

SIP trunk providers play a crucial role in enabling seamless integration with VoIP systems, enhancing communication capabilities for businesses. By embracing VoIP integration, companies can leverage the power of unified communications to streamline their operations and improve overall efficiency.

Unified communications refers to the integration of various communication tools and platforms into a centralized system. This allows employees to access a wide range of communication channels, such as voice calls, video conferencing, instant messaging, and email, all from a single interface. With VoIP integration facilitated by SIP trunk providers, companies can achieve a higher level of collaboration and productivity.

Through the integration of VoIP systems, businesses can experience several benefits. Firstly, VoIP enables cost-effective communication by utilizing the internet for voice calls rather than traditional phone lines. This eliminates the need for separate phone systems, resulting in significant cost savings for businesses.

Additionally, VoIP integration allows for greater flexibility and scalability. SIP trunk providers offer businesses the ability to add or remove VoIP channels as needed, accommodating fluctuations in communication requirements. This scalability ensures that businesses can easily adapt to changing needs without incurring unnecessary costs.

Benefits of VoIP Integration:

Cost-effective communication through the use of internet telephony

Improved collaboration and productivity with unified communications

Flexibility and scalability to meet changing communication needs

Enhanced mobility and remote accessibility

Seamless integration with existing communication systems

In summary, VoIP integration facilitated by SIP trunk providers empowers businesses with efficient and unified communication solutions. By leveraging the benefits of VoIP systems, companies can optimize their communication workflows, enhance collaboration, and achieve a competitive edge in today's digital landscape.

Robust PSTN Connectivity for Reliable Communication

When it comes to business communication, reliability is key. That's why having robust PSTN connectivity is crucial for businesses seeking uninterrupted and dependable phone system connectivity. SIP trunk providers play a vital role in ensuring this robust connectivity through the use of SIP gateways.

SIP gateways act as the bridge between SIP trunks and traditional phone systems, allowing for seamless communication between the two. They enable businesses to connect their IP-based phone systems to the Public Switched Telephone Network (PSTN), ensuring that calls can be made and received without any disruptions.

With SIP gateways, businesses can leverage their existing phone systems while taking advantage of the cost savings and additional features provided by SIP trunking services. Whether it's making local or international calls, SIP gateways ensure that the communication is reliable and of high quality.

By partnering with a leading SIP trunk provider that offers robust PSTN connectivity, businesses can enjoy the benefits of a dependable and efficient phone system. They can confidently communicate with clients, customers, and partners, knowing that their calls will go through smoothly and without any hiccups.

Benefits of robust PSTN connectivity provided by SIP trunk providers:

Reliable and uninterrupted communication

Seamless integration between SIP trunks and traditional phone systems

Cost savings by leveraging existing phone systems

High-quality voice calls, both local and international

With robust PSTN connectivity provided by SIP trunk providers, businesses can achieve reliable and consistent communication, allowing them to focus on their core operations and serve their customers effectively.

Efficient Call Routing for Cost Savings

When it comes to business communication, efficient call routing plays a crucial role in ensuring seamless connectivity and optimizing costs. Leading SIP trunk providers offer robust call routing capabilities that enable businesses to streamline their communication processes and drive cost savings.

Call routing involves the intelligent distribution of incoming calls to the most appropriate destination within an organization. With SIP trunking, businesses can leverage advanced call routing features to enhance their overall communication efficiency. These features include:

Automatic call forwarding: Incoming calls can be automatically redirected to different extensions or departments based on pre-defined rules. This ensures that calls are efficiently routed to the most suitable individuals or teams, minimizing the need for manual intervention.

Time-based routing: Businesses can set up call routing rules based on specific time frames. For example, calls received outside of office hours can be redirected to voicemail or a designated on-call team, ensuring that no important calls go unanswered.

Geographical routing: SIP trunk providers also offer geographical call routing functionality. Calls can be directed to different locations or branches based on the caller's geographical location. This ensures that customers are connected to the most relevant and geographically suitable agents or representatives.

By implementing efficient call routing strategies, businesses can achieve significant cost savings. With intelligent call routing, organizations can reduce unnecessary call transfers and minimize the time spent on handling each call. This optimized call flow helps enhance productivity and customer satisfaction while reducing operational costs.

Moreover, leading SIP trunk providers offer flexible pricing models for their call routing services, allowing businesses to pay for the specific call routing features they require. This ensures cost-efficient communication solutions tailored to their unique needs and enables them to avoid unnecessary expenses.

With the right call routing capabilities provided by leading SIP trunk providers, businesses can maximize their communication efficiency, reduce costs, and deliver exceptional customer experiences.

Wholesale Voice Solutions for Enterprise Needs

SIP trunk providers offer wholesale voice solutions tailored to meet the specific communication needs of enterprises. These solutions enable businesses to streamline their voice services while enjoying cost savings and improved efficiency. Let's explore how wholesale voice, wholesale VoIP, and wholesale voice termination can benefit your enterprise.

Benefits of Wholesale Voice Solutions

Cost Savings: Wholesale voice solutions allow enterprises to purchase voice services in bulk at discounted rates, resulting in significant cost savings compared to traditional voice services.

Scalability: These solutions are highly scalable, allowing businesses to easily add or remove channels based on their changing communication needs.

Reliable Performance: Leading SIP trunk providers ensure high-quality voice termination services, providing crystal-clear voice communication for seamless business operations.

Flexibility: Wholesale voice solutions offer businesses the flexibility to choose the most suitable voice termination options, such as local, international, or toll-free numbers.

Centralized Management: Enterprises can manage their voice services centrally, reducing administrative complexities and enhancing overall control of their communication systems.

Wholesale VoIP and Voice Termination

Wholesale VoIP allows businesses to transmit voice calls over the internet. By partnering with a reputable SIP trunk provider, enterprises can benefit from wholesale VoIP services that offer extensive coverage, competitive pricing, and exceptional call quality. Wholesale voice termination refers to the process of routing voice calls to their intended destinations across various networks. SIP trunk providers ensure seamless voice termination, ensuring that businesses can connect with their customers and partners without any disruptions.

Scalability and Flexibility of SIP Trunking

When it comes to business communication, adaptability is key. That's why SIP trunking services from leading providers offer unmatched scalability and flexibility, allowing businesses to easily adjust their communication infrastructure as their needs evolve.

With SIP trunking, businesses can add or remove SIP channels effortlessly, enabling them to optimize their resources and costs. Whether you need to accommodate a sudden increase in call volume or scale down during slower periods, SIP trunking allows for seamless adjustments without disrupting your operations.

By partnering with reliable SIP trunk providers, businesses gain access to the internet telephony solutions they need to connect with customers, clients, and partners across the globe. Leveraging the power of SIP channels, organizations can establish high-quality voice calls and exchange data efficiently, regardless of geographical boundaries.

What's more, SIP trunking services enable businesses to integrate modern communication technologies seamlessly. By leveraging internet telephony, companies can enjoy the benefits of unified communications, combining voice, messaging, and other collaboration tools into a single, cohesive platform.

By harnessing the scalability and flexibility offered by SIP trunking, businesses can future-proof their communication systems, ensuring they can adapt to evolving customer demands and industry trends. Whether it's expanding to new markets, supporting remote workforces, or implementing advanced communication features, SIP trunking provides the foundation for growth and innovation.

In the next section, we will explore the robust redundancy and disaster recovery solutions offered by leading SIP trunk providers, ensuring uninterrupted communication even during unforeseen events.

Redundancy and Disaster Recovery Solutions

Leading SIP Trunk Providers understand the critical need for uninterrupted communication in today's business landscape. That is why they offer robust redundancy and disaster recovery solutions to ensure seamless operations even during unforeseen events.

Disasters such as natural calamities or system failures can significantly disrupt communication channels, leading to loss of productivity and potential revenue. However, businesses can mitigate these risks by partnering with SIP Trunk Providers that prioritize disaster recovery solutions.

Redundancy for Reliable Communication

SIP Trunk Providers leverage redundant infrastructure to maintain service availability and minimize downtime. By deploying multiple data centers located in geographically diverse regions, these providers ensure that even if one location goes offline, communication remains uninterrupted. This redundancy eliminates single points of failure, resulting in highly reliable and resilient SIP trunking services.

Furthermore, leading providers employ advanced failover mechanisms to seamlessly switch traffic to an alternate data center in case of any disruption. This automated process helps maintain continuity and enables businesses to overcome challenges without any significant impact on their communication systems.

Disaster Recovery Solutions for Business Continuity

In addition to redundancy, SIP Trunk Providers offer comprehensive disaster recovery solutions to safeguard businesses during emergencies. These solutions include backup strategies, data replication, and failover procedures to ensure that critical communication services are quickly restored in the event of a disaster.

By implementing disaster recovery plans and backup systems, SIP Trunk Providers can swiftly recover data, reroute calls, and restore services, minimizing any potential loss of communication and allowing businesses to resume operations promptly.

Benefits of Redundancy and Disaster Recovery Solutions

Ensures uninterrupted communication, enhancing business continuity

Minimizes potential revenue loss during downtime

Provides peace of mind knowing that communication channels are protected

Facilitates quick restoration of services, reducing downtime impact

Improves overall reliability and resilience of communication systems

By partnering with a SIP Trunk Provider that prioritizes redundancy and disaster recovery solutions, businesses can effectively safeguard their communication infrastructure, enabling them to stay connected even in the face of adversity.

Quality of Service and Service Level Agreements

When it comes to SIP trunking services, the quality of service (QoS) offered by SIP trunk providers is paramount. Whether you are a small business or a large enterprise, ensuring reliable and high-quality communication is essential for seamless operations.

Quality of service refers to the performance and reliability of the voice and data transmission over SIP trunks. It encompasses factors such as call clarity, minimal latency, and consistent bandwidth allocation. Achieving a high level of quality requires the expertise and infrastructure provided by reputable SIP trunk providers.

SIP trunk providers understand the significance of QoS and strive to deliver exceptional performance. They maintain robust networks and employ advanced technologies to ensure crystal-clear voice calls and smooth data transmissions. By prioritizing QoS, businesses can avoid issues like dropped calls, poor audio quality, and data loss.

In addition to QoS, service level agreements (SLAs) play a crucial role in guaranteeing reliable communication. SLAs are contracts between businesses and SIP trunk providers that outline the expected level of service. They define metrics such as uptime percentage, call completion rates, and response times for support inquiries.

With SLAs in place, businesses can have peace of mind knowing that their communication system is backed by guarantees. In the event of any service disruptions, providers are bound to resolve issues promptly, minimizing downtime and ensuring uninterrupted operations.

SIP Trunk Providers: Ensuring High-Quality Communication

Advanced network infrastructure: Leading SIP trunk providers invest in state-of-the-art network infrastructure to deliver superior quality of service. They prioritize traffic to minimize latency, jitter, and packet loss.

Bandwidth management: Providers allocate and manage bandwidth effectively to ensure consistent performance even during peak usage periods. This allows businesses to maintain optimal communication quality without bottlenecks.

Quality monitoring and optimization: SIP trunk providers continuously monitor and optimize their services to identify and address potential quality issues. They employ proactive measures to maintain the highest standards of communication quality.

Redundancy and failover systems: To ensure reliable communication, providers have redundant systems in place. In the event of any network or hardware failures, failover systems seamlessly switch to backup routes, minimizing service disruptions.

By partnering with a reputable SIP trunk provider, businesses can leverage their expertise and infrastructure to achieve exceptional quality of service. This translates into clearer calls, smoother data transfers, and enhanced overall communication experiences.

Next, we'll explore the security and encryption features offered by leading SIP trunk providers to ensure the privacy and protection of your communication. But first, let's take a moment to visualize the importance of quality of service in SIP trunking services.

Security and Encryption Features

When it comes to business communication, security is paramount. Leading SIP Trunk Providers understand this and offer robust security measures and encryption features to ensure the confidentiality and integrity of your communications.

One of the key security features offered by SIP Trunk Providers is Transport Layer Security (TLS). TLS encrypts the communication between your organization and the service provider, preventing unauthorized access and eavesdropping. It provides end-to-end encryption, keeping your data secure from the moment it leaves your network until it reaches its destination.

In addition to TLS, providers often employ Secure Real-time Transport Protocol (SRTP) for securing voice and video calls. SRTP encrypts the media streams, making sure that your conversations cannot be intercepted or tampered with. This adds an extra layer of protection to your sensitive business communications.

SIP Trunk Providers also implement firewalls and intrusion detection systems to safeguard against unauthorized access attempts. These security measures monitor and block suspicious activity, protecting your network from potential threats.

Furthermore, some providers offer multi-factor authentication (MFA) to enhance security. With MFA, users are required to provide additional verification, such as a unique code sent to their mobile device, before accessing the SIP trunking service. This reduces the risk of unauthorized access even if login credentials are compromised.

By leveraging the security features provided by leading SIP Trunk Providers, businesses can have peace of mind knowing that their communications are protected from external threats. Choosing a provider that prioritizes security ensures the confidentiality, integrity, and availability of your critical business communications.

SIP Trunk Provider Comparison: Factors to Consider

When choosing the right SIP trunk provider for your business phone solutions, it's essential to carefully evaluate and compare different options. To ensure that you make an informed decision, consider the following key factors:

Reliability: Look for SIP trunk providers that have a proven track record of reliable service and uptime. Check customer reviews and testimonials to get an idea of their performance.

Call Quality: High-quality voice calls are crucial for effective business communication. Consider providers that offer advanced technologies and prioritize call quality.

Scalability: Your business communication needs may change and grow over time. Choose a provider that allows easy scalability, enabling you to add or remove trunks as per your requirements.

Cost: Compare pricing plans offered by different providers, considering both setup costs and ongoing charges. Look for transparent pricing models without hidden fees.

Compatibility: Ensure that the SIP trunk provider is compatible with your existing phone system and equipment. This compatibility will simplify integration and minimize potential disruption.

Customer Support: Evaluate the level of customer support offered by each provider. You'll want a provider that provides timely and reliable support to address any issues that may arise.

Security: Business communication requires robust security measures to protect sensitive information. Look for providers that offer encrypted communication and have strong security protocols in place.

By carefully considering these factors, you can select a SIP trunk provider that best meets the unique needs of your business, ensuring seamless and efficient communication.

How to Select the Right SIP Trunk Provider

When it comes to implementing SIP trunking for your business, selecting the right SIP trunk provider is crucial for achieving seamless communication. With numerous providers available in the market, it can be overwhelming to choose the one that best fits your business needs. To help you make an informed decision, follow this step-by-step guide:

Evaluate your business requirements: Before selecting a SIP trunk provider, assess your communication needs. Consider factors such as the number of concurrent calls, anticipated call volume, and desired features like call routing and voicemail-to-email.

Research reputable providers: Look for SIP trunk providers with a proven track record and positive customer reviews. Research their industry experience, customer support services, and the range of features they offer.

Compare pricing: Obtain quotes from different providers and compare their pricing structures. Consider any additional fees, such as setup fees or charges for exceeding usage limits.

Evaluate call quality: Quality of service (QoS) is crucial for ensuring clear and reliable communication. Inquire about the provider's network infrastructure, redundancy measures, and service level agreements (SLAs) that guarantee call quality.

Inquire about network coverage: Ensure that the provider's network coverage aligns with your business requirements. If your business operates in multiple locations, confirm that the provider can offer reliable service in all those areas.

Consider scalability: Assess the provider's scalability offerings to accommodate your business growth. Check if they can easily add or remove SIP channels as your communication needs evolve.

By following these steps, you can confidently select the right SIP trunk provider for your business. Remember to prioritize factors such as reliable service, competitive pricing, and excellent customer support. With the right provider, you can enhance your business communication and streamline your operations.

Benefits of Partnering with a Leading SIP Trunk Provider

Partnering with a leading SIP Trunk Provider can offer numerous advantages and play a pivotal role in enhancing your business communication. These providers bring a wealth of value-added services, reliability, and expertise to ensure seamless connectivity and efficient operations.

One of the primary benefits of partnering with a leading SIP trunk provider is the access to advanced technology and infrastructure. These providers invest heavily in state-of-the-art equipment, software, and network infrastructure, enabling businesses to leverage the latest communication solutions. This ensures that your organization stays ahead of the curve in today’s fast-paced digital landscape.

A leading SIP trunk provider also offers unmatched reliability. By utilizing redundant networks, advanced failover systems, and disaster recovery solutions, they ensure uninterrupted communication even during unforeseen events or network disruptions. This ensures seamless connectivity and minimizes downtime, allowing your business to operate smoothly.

Furthermore, collaborating with a reputable SIP trunk provider grants access to a range of value-added services. These include features such as auto-attendants, call recording, call forwarding, and virtual phone numbers. These services enhance the functionality and efficiency of your business phone system, improving customer experience and overall productivity.

In addition to the technical aspects, partnering with a leading SIP trunk provider offers the advantage of expertise and support. These providers have a team of experienced professionals who understand the intricacies of SIP trunking and can provide valuable guidance and support. Whether it's setting up the system, troubleshooting issues, or optimizing performance, their expertise ensures that you get the most out of your SIP trunking investment.

Moreover, working with a trusted SIP trunk provider strengthens your business's security and compliance. These providers implement robust security measures, including encryption protocols and firewalls, to safeguard your communication channels and protect sensitive data. This peace of mind allows you to concentrate on your core business without worrying about potential security breaches.

By partnering with a leading SIP trunk provider, businesses also benefit from cost savings. As compared to traditional phone systems, SIP trunking offers significant cost advantages, including lower long-distance and international call rates, reduced maintenance costs, and simplified infrastructure. These savings can directly impact your bottom line and contribute to overall business growth.

In conclusion, partnering with a leading SIP trunk provider offers a plethora of benefits, such as advanced technology, enhanced reliability, value-added services, expert support, improved security, and cost savings. By leveraging the expertise and services provided by these providers, businesses can streamline their communication processes, enhance productivity, and stay competitive in the ever-evolving business landscape.

Conclusion

Choosing a leading SIP trunk provider is crucial for businesses seeking enhanced communication capabilities. Throughout this article, we have explored the key features offered by these providers and how they can benefit your organization. By understanding SIP trunking services and their integration with VoIP systems, businesses can achieve seamless communication across different channels.

Robust PSTN connectivity ensures reliable communication between SIP trunks and traditional phone systems, while efficient call routing capabilities can lead to cost savings and improved efficiency. Furthermore, wholesale voice solutions offered by leading SIP trunk providers cater to the enterprise needs of businesses, enhancing their communication infrastructure.

Scalability and flexibility are inherent in SIP trunking services, allowing businesses to adapt to changing communication requirements easily. With built-in redundancy and disaster recovery solutions, interruptions to communication are minimized, ensuring business continuity. Additionally, these providers prioritize quality of service through service level agreements, guaranteeing reliable and high-quality communication.

Security features and encryption protocols offered by leading SIP trunk providers ensure the confidentiality and integrity of business communications. By carefully considering the factors mentioned in this article and conducting a thorough assessment, businesses can select the right SIP trunk provider that aligns with their specific needs and goals. Partnering with a leading SIP trunk provider brings a host of benefits, including value-added services and expertise that optimize business communication.

In conclusion, choosing a leading SIP trunk provider lays a strong foundation for reliable, secure, and efficient business communication. By embracing high-quality SIP trunking services, businesses can streamline their communication systems and gain a competitive edge in today's digital landscape.

[dnnikhil]

Global session initiation protocol (SIP) trunking services market is expected to gain market growth in the forecast period of 2022 to 2029. Data Bridge Market Research analyses that the market is growing with the CAGR of 12.5% in the forecast period of 2022 to 2029 and expected to reach USD 26,994.04 million by 2029. Increase in the requirement of quick-decision making process in biotechnology is e expected to drive the growth of the market significantly.

[mournthebird]

Broken Texture.

summary: You explore his scars.

warnings: Post!HYDRA Winter Soldier | Post!HTP and abuse | PTSD symptoms & behavior | Flashbacks of HTP | Past dehumanization | Flashbacks of SA | Physical abuse & torture

a/n: This chapter contains flashbacks of active SA and torture.

This chapter is a little heavier than what I try to write on here. I have upcoming works that delve further into the experience and trauma itself that he experiences in HYDRA, so this sort of gives a little bit of insight. I tried not go get super into the darker stuff, but I touched on it enough. One more chapter to go before this series concludes. ;; wc: 4.3k

You were having a hard time sleeping that night.

The soldier lay peacefully beside you, his body completely enveloped in the soft blankets of your bed. He had started spending his nights here some time ago, seeking comfort in your presence, and tonight appeared to be one of his better nights. The usual tension that marked his features had melted away, replaced by a serene expression you rarely witnessed. So far, his sleep remained undisturbed by the nightmares that typically plagued him.

Yet.

Try as you might, there was no denying the deepening affection that had taken root in your heart, even though you wrestled with the appropriateness of these feelings. Every rational thought told you that you shouldn't allow yourself to care for him this way. But your heart refused to listen to reason.

His striking features certainly drew you in, but it was his vulnerability that truly captured your heart. The way he naturally gravitated toward you for support and comfort, the lingering glances he cast in your direction, the unmistakable longing that seemed to radiate from him whenever you were near - it all conspired to send butterflies dancing through your stomach and set your heart racing in your chest.

You needed to keep yourself under control, fighting against every instinct that urged you forward. You wouldn't take advantage of him like this...it was not right, not when he was in such a vulnerable state. This poor man has seen horrors that would've killed most other people - unspeakable torments that haunted him day and night. He lived through a hell on earth, trapped in an endless cycle of pain and manipulation, unable to escape or get away for decades, forced to endure unspeakable treatment.

You had tried multiple times to look back on some of the released tapes once HYDRA fell apart. Your previous attempts to decode their encrypted files had been successful initially, offering glimpses into the darkness, but it seemed that SHIELD had since added multiple layers of enhanced security to the files. Despite your best efforts at bypassing their protocols, you were unable to look back at them to see the full significance of the damage done to him - perhaps that was for the best, given what little you had already uncovered.

Even with the fragments you had seen, nothing could've compared to the reality of it, nothing could've prepared you for the depth of cruelty revealed in those brief glimpses. The images haunted you ever time you looked at him, making you wonder how anyone could survive such systematic torture.

Now, all you could see were the marks of the aftermath, the countless scars that littered his body like a canvas of suffering. Angry marks that raked along his pale flesh, telling stories of countless sessions of torture - some thin and precise, others jagged and brutal, all shapes and sizes, from all kinds of causes. Each scar a moment of agony. The Winter Soldier wasn't as prized as the public thought.

Not with treatment like this - treatment that spoke of casual cruelty and complete disregard for human dignity.

Soldat shifted where he laid, gradually turning to expose his back, revealing not just the jagged, angry scar encircling his prosthetic, but old wounds across his skin. His back told a hushed tale of past violence - long scars stretched in every conceivable direction, creating a complex web of raised tissue. Some ran horizontally like fallen horizon lines, others traced vertical paths like rain trails down a window, while many more crisscrossed chaotically, weaving an intricate pattern of past pain across his flesh.

The scars varied dramatically in their severity. Most appeared as thin, silvery lines etched into his skin, while others had carved deeper channels into his flesh. Some bore evidence of more brutal injuries - wider, more ragged marks where chunks of flesh had been torn away, leaving behind irregular depressions surrounded by clusters of smaller scars, like satellite wounds orbiting larger impacts. The texture of his skin undulated between smooth and rough, each scar telling its own silent story of survival.

You found yourself fighting against an overwhelming compulsion to reach out and trace each line, each mark. Your fingertips practically buzzed with the desire to connect with his scarred skin, to follow the paths of these old wounds with the gentlest touch. A protective instinct churned, as if by touching them you could somehow verify that they were truly healed, that they weren't still causing him pain. Your hands remained at your sides, but they ached with the need to ensure these old battle marks weren't still hurting him.

Your eyes traveled down to where the blanket covered the rest of him, settling just at his waist. Scattered across his exposed skin were singular scars, each one resembling small fireworks frozen mid-burst against his flesh. One particularly deep mark caught your attention - a circular depression in the flesh of his right bicep. Though you weren't an expert in such matters, the puckered edges and distinctive shape strongly suggested a bullet wound had been the cause of it.

Without lack of better self control, you reached out to touch it. Your index finger moved slowly as it grazed over the raised tissue. The scar's texture was a contradiction - tougher than the surrounding skin yet somehow thinner, like paper that had been crumpled and smoothed out again. The sensation defied easy description, being neither entirely smooth nor rough.

The moment stretched like honey, but before your exploring touch could venture further, a cold metal hand suddenly clamped around your wrist. The grip was swift and decisive - the soldier had awoken, his steel blue eyes now fixed intently upon you through the dark curtain of his hair as he twisted to look over his shoulder. While his hold wasn't painful, it communicated an unmistakable command to cease all movement.

"I'm sorry," you began softly, your voice barely above a whisper in the tense silence, "I don't know what came over me..."

The soldier remained motionless for a moment before slowly shifting his body to face you, gradually pushing himself up from his laid position. "What were you doing...?" The question came out as a hush, his voice carrying the gentle roughness of someone recently roused from sleep. Though his tone maintained its characteristic softness and calm, there was an undercurrent of unease that made your heart clench.

The trust between you had grown steadily, becoming something substantial and meaningful, but you understood completely why he would feel unsettled waking up to unexpected touch, especially in such a vulnerable area. Your chest tightened with guilt at the thought of potentially triggering any distressing memories, and you immediately felt the need to clarify your actions, wanting to reassure him.

"I was looking at your scars, I shouldn't have touched you without your permission, I'm sorry for that." Your words came out gentle and measured as you displayed your open palm in a gesture of transparency. "I guess I never noticed just how many you had..." Your voice trailed off, heavy with the weight of what those numerous marks implied about his past.

Soldat's expression remained carefully neutral as he watched you, though you struggled to read beyond that composed exterior. His face had always been like a still lake - calm on the surface, but with depths that held countless unknowable thoughts and emotions swirling beneath.

"You were looking?" He asked, his voice wavering with uncertainty, his expression a mixture of confusion and vulnerability as he tried to understand your intentions. "Why would you...?"

"Curious, I suppose," you replied softly, choosing your words with careful deliberation. "You have so many of them...I couldn’t look away. They're like a map of everything you've endured." Your words carried the weight of honesty - raw and unfiltered. You knew he valued truth above all else, finding comfort and security in it.

His gaze drifted downward to his exposed chest, a slow, contemplative nod accompanying his movement. The scars were countless, their silvery paths weaving across his skin. They weren't confined to just his back - they spread across his chest and traced patterns down his abdomen, wrapped around his arms, and marked his legs…

Everywhere.

Not a single part of him was untouched by violence.

But sometimes...it's the invisible wounds that hurt the most.

Those were the scars that truly defined him, the invisible wounds that continued to bleed long after the physical ones had healed.

The asset's handler, the Командир, had an obsessive fascination with tools that bordered on reverence. His collection was extensive, meticulously maintained, and continuously growing.

He possessed an array of weapons, with firearms holding a special place in his heart, as a true man of the military.

But his true passion lay in implements designed for prolonged torment.

Weapons that could inflict lasting damage without the mercy of death, ones specifically crafted to extract maximum suffering from his victims while keeping them conscious and aware - those were what he cherished most, what he considered his favorites.

He liked ones he could swing; bullwhips that could slice through flesh with practiced precision, cat o' nine tails with their multiple leather strands that maximized pain across a wider area, riding crops that left distinctive welts, and whipping canes that could break skin.

The asset had become intimately acquainted with each one, forced to learn their individual characteristics through repeated exposure. When asked which implement was the most bearable, the asset remained silent - they all brought their own unique brand of agony.

Among his extensive collection, the Командир displayed a particular fondness for canes. His assortment included ones crafted from various materials - sleek fiberglass, traditional rattan, and modified cables. Each one, if used properly, could tear through flesh. He curated this collection with the dedication of a connoisseur, treating each implement as if it were a priceless artifact, maintaining and displaying them with disturbing pride.

"This is one of my better ones," he showed the asset a long, sleek cane, holding it up to catch the harsh fluorescent lighting. The object was pristine and untouched, its polished surface gleaming with an ominous promise, having never yet tasted flesh. The Командир's voice dropped to a lower register, practically purring as he spoke about the damned thing, his eyes glazing with a disturbing anticipation. "It's made from fiberglass, carefully engineered to be both flexible and durable. The craftsmanship is exquisite - made to last through countless sessions."

The asset remained perfectly still as the cane made contact with its exposed back, the cool tip tracing each pronounced ridge of its slightly protruding spine. A familiar emptiness gnawed at its insides, and its stomach released an involuntary growl that seemed deafening in the sterile silence.

The nutrition - if one could call it that - consisted of nothing but mushy, flavorless paste that slid down its throat like tepid wallpaper glue. It yearned desperately for something solid between its teeth, something with any hint of taste or texture to break the monotony of force-fed sustenance.

It couldn't remember what flavor was exactly anymore - those memories had long since been scraped away - but deep in its bones, in some primal part of its being that couldn't be wiped clean, it knew anything had to be better than the endless servings of beige paste that kept it alive but never satisfied.

The Командир roughly pressed down on its head with a calloused hand, forcing the asset forward until it collapsed onto its hands and knees in submission. An involuntary tremor ran through its entire body - the room held a penetrating chill that seemed to seep into its very bones.

While not as severe as the biting cold of the cryochamber, there was still a pervasive coldness that never truly left its body. The harsh concrete beneath offered no comfort, its damp surface making the asset's knees throb with a deep, persistent ache as they pressed against the unforgiving floor.

"Your continued refusal to eat is not only disappointing but shows a profound disrespect for everything we provide you. You display nothing but ingratitude for our care," the Командир's voice dripped with contempt. "If you persist in refusing the food we provide, we will either force the food down your throat, or deny you everything until your body is so desperate for nutrients that we feed you through tubes to keep you operational."

A cruel smile spread across the Командир's features as he towered over the kneeling asset, his eyes glinting with barely contained malicious anticipation.

"However, before we reach that point, immediate correction of this defiant behavior is required..." The sound of the cane cutting through the air as he raised it made the asset flinch involuntarily. "I believe several dozen strokes should help adjust your attitude to something more...cooperative."

The soldier blinked away the haunting memory, his breathing shallow and uneven as the images slowly faded from his mind's eye. The walls of your gentle home helped ground him in reality, though they offered little comfort.

He was safe here, tucked away in this hidden corner of the world, far from that man's reach, from all of them. Yet the very thought that his former handler was still out there somewhere, possibly searching for him, made his stomach twist and churn with a sickening intensity that threatened to overwhelm him.

"What is it?" You asked with gentle concern, your voice barely above a whisper, "Are you having a flashback? You seem distant."

He managed a slow nod, finding himself unable to form words in the aftermath of the memory. It was always like this - the darkness of night seemed to strip away his constructed defenses, leaving him raw and vulnerable. Sleep called to him, promising temporary relief from these thoughts, but he couldn't give in just yet.

His exhaustion mattered not, there was an overwhelming compulsion to respond to your question, to give you the answers you sought. Whether this urge stemmed from decades of conditioning to satisfy or genuine trust, he couldn't be certain. He pushed the thought aside, unwilling to examine it too closely.

"I was shot," Soldat finally spoke, his voice rough and quiet in the darkness. His metal fingers moved up his arm, tracing the scar tissue on his bicep where you had touched moments before. "I...I was too sloppy. Made a mistake. Let the target get a shot off before I could complete the mission."

"How about this one?" You guided your hand carefully to another prominent scar that marked his skin, positioned lower on his abdomen. It was a long, jagged scar that carved a harsh path across his flesh, starting just beneath where his ribcage ended and trailing all the way down to his navel. The raised tissue was pale against his skin, a permanent reminder etched into his flesh. He looked down at it, his throat working as he swallowed hard, watching intently as you delicately traced the length of the scar with your fingertip, following its uneven path.

"Training accident," he muttered back, his voice rough with the memory. "I lost my footing, fell out of position. Left myself wide open - a kill spot. They wanted to make sure I understood what happens when you make mistakes like that in the field." The words came slowly as he recalled how the blade had sliced into him, cutting through layers of flesh and muscle as easily as a heated blade through softened butter. It had been such a clean, effortless cut, going deeper than he'd expected.

Through the haze of shock and pain that followed, he had a distinct memory of being certain he could see his own intestines spilling out, though the fog that had settled over his mind in those moments made it difficult to separate reality from trauma-induced hallucination. Some details remained sharp while others blurred at the edges, lost to the merciful amnesia that sometimes accompanies severe injury.

He felt you touch another one on his chest, his muscles tensing slightly at the contact. "Shrapnel," he said quietly, voice rough with memory.

"Bullet," he continued, each word carrying weight.

"Burn," the word came out harder this time, like the scar tissue beneath your fingertips.

"Punishment," he whispered, the word hanging heavy in the air between you.

You paused hearing that one, your hand hovering uncertainly before carefully lifting away from his back. A sick feeling settled in your gut - you weren't stupid to his mistreatment, you had known it was severe, but hearing him categorize it so clinically as punishment made your stomach twist into knots. The horror of it lay not in the hands of enemies, but in the cruelty of those who claimed to be his allies - though that term felt like ash in your mouth.

"HYDRA did this..." you started, voice catching slightly. "I still can't understand how they'd risk hurting you, you were their most valuable member, their everything." You trailed off, remembering the heavily redacted files you'd managed to access. The fragmentary evidence had painted a chilling picture, but you knew that what you'd seen was merely the surface of an iceberg, with darker depths you could hardly imagine.

"I was not a member...I was an asset. I did not belong with the others...I was....I wasn't..." He trailed away, his voice growing distant as memories flooded back, each one a reminder of how they had systematically stripped away his humanity. Less than human, less than a dog - he was reduced to an object, a tool to be used and discarded, with no purpose beyond absolute obedience and pleasure.

"Get him down, yeah, like that. That goddamn mission took forever, I need this." The familiar, dreaded voice of one of the agents cut through the air as rough hands seized its hair, yanking back with practiced cruelty. That tender spot at the base of its skull throbbed ceaselessly, worn raw from countless similar assaults. The question of resistance had long since faded - the asset never complained, not anymore, not after what such defiance had cost. It only complied.

Over time, it mastered the art of silent submission, learning to bear their brutality without a sound.

Through experience, it discovered the precise moments when tears and pleading would satisfy their darker urges.

It studied and cataloged each man's particular preferences, adapting itself to meet their demands with the efficiency expected of a well-trained asset.

The nauseating taste of bodily fluids had become more familiar than water, each member taking their turn to force themselves upon it. They would comment with sick satisfaction on the shape of its lips when he took another cock in his throat, expressing their twisted pleasure when it choked and struggled. If it showed any sign of adapting or enduring their assault with dignity, they would only escalate and attempt to suffocate it, determined to break it further.

Though each day brought new torments, nothing in its existence could compare to its handler - the one who had taught it the true meaning of ownership.

Your eyes trailed down, catching sight of what appeared to be an intricate carving etched deep into the flesh of his buttocks. You gently guided him to lean on his side, and the marking became starkly visible in the dim light. A scarred letter had been savagely torn through his flesh, the wound clearly inflicted with deliberation. The scar tissue was raised and angry, its pinkish hue standing in stark contrast to his surrounding skin.

R.

"I've had a lot of fun with you," His voice carried a deceptively gentle purr that barely masked the dangerous undertone beneath, its handler still violently buried between its legs. The relentless, agonizing stretch of its unprepared rectum around a cock drew involuntary tears from its eyes.

"But I'm getting bored. You're far too used to this now." He frowned, his expression carrying an almost theatrical disappointment, as though he wasn't destroying the broken soldier before him through calculated torture.

"The director's gonna set off Project Insight, you don't know what that is, do you, babe?" He reached down to pat the asset's tear-stained cheek with mock affection, carefully studying how its eyes had grown dull and glassy, desperately trying to disconnect from the searing pain its handler was causing it. "Nah...not yet. You don't need to know the details anyway, you just do what you're told...like a good little dog. That's all you're good for."

Despite its relentless efforts to maintain composure, its handler exhibited an uncanny talent for escalating the torment with each passing moment, finding increasingly cruel ways to break through its conditioned defenses.

"And with everything kicking off soon...who knows what might happen. Maybe HYDRA will restructure things a bit. Maybe they'll decide they don't need you anymore, and then I can finally take you home...make you into my perfect little obedient slave. Following my every command without question...just like you've always done."

He deliberately drew the blade down its jaw with practiced precision, creating a calculated nick in the flesh. After enduring countless hours of being passed around the base like a piece of equipment, its usually steadfast resilience was beginning to crack under the weight of exhaustion.

It flinched - a tiny, almost imperceptible movement.

It never flinched.

"Oh, so there's still something left in there, hm? Good..." He flashed a predatory grin, his tone taking on an almost playful edge that made the situation even more unsettling. "You know, they might decide to ship you off somewhere else, or put you back in cryo...and I'll never get to see you again. Wouldn't that be absolutely tragic?" Its handler continued his work with the blade, letting it dance across the skin as he made precise, random cuts along the sternum, each one placed in a way that would become irritated once all its straps were secured back on its body.

"Now, how can I ensure you'll never forget exactly who you belong to..."

"Shh, sh, baby...it's just a little blood. Don't worry, I'll patch you up real nice and proper soon..." He held back a chuckle, an eager, horny chuckle that rumbled deep in his chest. His eyes traced over the figure before him with unbridled satisfaction. He couldn't deny just how utterly beautiful his little soldier looked in this state - all bloody and beaten specifically for him, those delicious whimpers and gasps escaping those trembling lips...he absolutely adored being the only one who could reduce the world's greatest assassin down to nothing but this quivering mess beneath his hands.

"I think a brand of sorts will be good enough - something to remember me by." He took the blade, turning it slowly to catch the light, before thrusting it deep into the soldier's yielding flesh - and watched as it nearly bit clean through its tongue trying to suppress any noise of pain. "Stay still for me babe...that's my good little asset. Keep...perfectly...still..."

"M-My....my handler...." He rasped, his voice trembling with barely contained terror, "He..."

"I get it." You interrupted softly, not wanting to force him to relive those memories by explaining. You reached out and pulled the thick covers up over his shivering form, creating a protective cocoon as he instinctively curled into your warmth. Your hand moved in slow, soothing strokes up and down his back, feeling the tension in his muscles and the pattern those long scars made.

The poor man was haunted by someone who could very well be dead... but that uncertainty, that lingering doubt, was perhaps the worst torture of all. You pushed the dark thoughts aside, focusing instead on the present moment. "You're safe here, alright? No more handler or men to do those things to you..." You mumbled, your chest constricting painfully as fragments of imagination painted pictures of what he must have endured.

He nodded weakly, his metal hand shakily grasping your sleep shirt like a lifeline to reality. He wasn’t a weapon right now…he was a scared, tortured man.

His breathing gradually steadied as he inhaled your scent through uneven breaths, letting the soft combination of lavender and oranges wash over him like a calming balm. After a long moment, he whispered, voice small and uncertain, "What if he's alive?"

"Then he won't find you. And if he somehow does, I'm here, and I’ll protect you." You reassured gently, pouring all your conviction into those words. His face scrunched slightly at your response, fear morphing into worried concern.

"He will hurt you..." The words came out as barely more than a breath, heavy with protective anxiety.

"Nope, I'm stronger than you think." You replied with lightness, trying to infuse some comfort into the heavy atmosphere. Your tone was warm but firm, brooking no argument. You didn't want him falling asleep with those horrible memories playing through his mind like a twisted nightmare reel.

He remained quiet after that, allowing himself to focus entirely on your gentle ministrations as you methodically worked your way up and down his back with soothing strokes. Your other hand remained buried in his hair, carefully scratching at that tender spot that had been bothering him for decades. When your nails hit a particularly sensitive area, he winced slightly. "Ow...d-don't..." He began hesitantly, pausing to swallow as he gathered the courage to voice what he truly needed in this moment of vulnerability.

He can voice himself without pain. He can voice his needs without punishment…

He can.

"...could you...rub instead? Please." His voice was barely above a whisper, the request uncertain and fearful.

"Anything you need..." You responded softly as you immediately adjusted your touch, replacing the scratching motion with gentle circular rubbing movements against his scalp.

The change brought immediate relief - no more of the rough yanking that had caused him such distress before, no more of the sharp, biting pain that had plagued him. In its place was only the comfort of your touch, creating a protective barrier between him and the darkness that had been threatening to pull him under into its depths.

He cried quietly, relief in his tears instead of pain.

Dividers by @/strangergraphics

Cover image from Pinterest. I do not claim as my own.

Taglist: @captivator9oh7 | @millercontracting | @teafangirl | @leighta | @questionableratatouille00 | @buckybarneswife125 | @hazydespair | @knoxic | @ghostlyfleur | @beckies000 | @seventeen-x | @freyjhasdesiredreality | @curlycow01 | @blackstabbath6 | @devilslittlehelper | @regics | @honeybee-hayes | @buckys-arm-and-rios-dagger | @gabriella-aesthetic | @sapphirebarnes | @animechick555 | @chimchoom | @regics | @frombkjar | @tummyyellin | @sour-patxch | @cats-chaotic-mind | @httpsells | @lailac13 | @mintchocochip-icecream-blog | @takeyour-pants-off | @lveegsoi | @sera--sera | @daddyyy88 | @thewitcherxhisbard | @lailac13 | @damnitmaddie | @stilleobjection | @needf0rspeed | @damnitmaddie | @qzskn13 | @frog-fans-unite | @seaskysunrise | @pro-iron-man-fan

Let me know if you'd like to be added/unadded anytime.

[confuzing]

I have this idea for an SVSSS fic where SQQ winds up regularly sharing dreams with both his LBH and OGLBH. I'd need to do a reread for it but I'm gonna post the broad strokes because I can't stop rotating it in my mind.

It's Abyss time but SQQ puts his foot down. No he's not pushing his Binghe into the Abyss, shut up System. Oh you're going to kill him? Then do it.

Then he throws his sword away and pulls LBH away from the Abyss.

SQQ: Ok honey I'm maybe about to drop dead but it's not your fault ok?

LBH: WHAT???

And then the System does indeed try to rip SQQ's soul out- except LBH, right there and terrified, mentally grabs hold of his Shizun's soul and won't let go.

MQF rolls up to a fucking nightmare, SQQ is in the process of having his soul ripped out by some kind of mystery curse? LBH is burning through his own supply of qi to stop it but that's a napkin on a stab wound- Liu Qingge put your sword down right now! Yes MQF can see LBH's part demon, now help him keep SQQ alive or fuck off - you too Sect Leader!

Meanwhile the System is glitching out, and decides to initiate a Punishment Protocol because this mess is all SQQ's fault and he won't die like a good user.

So it dumps him in the dreams of OGLBH, who's just been pushed in the Abyss by his own Shizun.

Faced with a very upset teen Binghe, SQQ does the only thing that he can. He hugs that boy and tells him none of this is his fault and he didn't do anything wrong.

It probably only works because OGLBH is very upset and desperate for comfort- and when OGLBH said "SQQ??" incredulously SQQ says "No, I'm sorry I know I look like him" and this man doesn't act like the SQQ he knows at all, and he gives really good hugs.

SQQ is stuck in OGLBH's dreams when he's not just... nowhere and after a few more short hug sessions (OGLBH can't usually sleep for long) OGLBH finally asks who exactly SQQ is then?

Right around this time MQF figures out how to stabilize SQQ without requiring LBH to be awake and actively channeling qi the whole time. So LBH passes the f out and goes to look for his Shizun, turning up right when SQQ is dreaming with OGLBH.

After a little Binghe stand off SQQ sits them both down and decides to just, tell them everything -he can here, the System can't stop him and it's already killing him what else can it do?

So he tells them about parallel universes, and his own original world, about Proud Immortal Demon Way, and his decision, upon waking up in his favorite book in the villian's body, to meddle every way he could. He tells them about the System and explains that it probably sent him here thinking OGLBH would hurt him, thinking he was OGSQQ. Everything.

Eventually MQF and a bunch of other cultivators untangle SQQ from the System, letting his soul come back to his body but leaving that door open between his mind and OGLBH's.

From there I just have ideas I'd want to explore, some of my favorites:

-OGLBH finding out about Without a Cure and that SQQ isn't telling his Binghe about the easy fix and having to decide if he's going to spill the beans or not.

-Every time I think about what to do with SQH I wind up thinking about what would probably be a whole side fic of court wranglings, political assassinations and interspecies dating drama after SQH runs away to hide with MBJ when SQQ wakes up and goes "you're cursed too right?"

-Both Binghes and their Meng Mos coming along on SQQ's scenic tour of SJ's traumatic backstory (I just need SQQ to hug that little tea-soaked Binghe only for him to split into the two older Binghes because when they entered this memory both of them inhabited the baby Binghe's avatar)

- The whole sect deciding that actually LBH is their half demon son and none of the other sects better even look at him funny. (The biggest reason for this might be SQQ waking up from being cursed and immediately threatening to kill everyone in the room and then himself if anything happens to LBH even though he can't even sit up. Also like, the kid's been crying nonstop for days now, not exactly scary demon behavior. Kid needs a hug and some juice)

-A very fraught conversation when OGLBH gets out of the Abyss where he tells SQQ he's going back to the mountain and SQQ refuses to ask him not to kill everyone because he knows exactly what OGLBH suffered at the hands of those alternate versions of the people SQQ loves.

-Every now and the the Binghes just meet up to hiss at each other like angry cats

[p-seduonym]

The Light That Got Lost (Part Eight)

A/N: I lied again. I said this would be shorter but it's actually pretty long. Just wanted to up the ante on the spook factor here. Sorry if Alfred didn't say much I din't know what he would say.

Taglist: @cheust, @i-simp-for-women, @goodsoup19, @143637-hrrm, @delias-stuff, @12nitled, @cutenessbun, @rinkydinkythinky, @trashlanternfish360, @bunbunbread, @daddysfangirls-dc, @justannie18, @moon0goddess (will add more if asked)

Part One

Part Two

Part 2.5

Interlude

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Part Seven

Based off of @cheust's Ghost Caretaker AU. It's really good so give it a read!

[Hypnotherapy Session Log — Initial Entry] Subject: Casey Wayne Date: [REDACTED] Time: 3:12 PM Location: Wayne Residence — Conservatory Room Practitioner: Dr. Johanna Hoffman, Ph.D., Child Psychiatry and Clinical Hypnotherapy Observer: A. Pennyworth (guardian present at subject’s request)

[Pre-Session Notes] Subject appeared alert but subdued upon entry. Eyes slightly red; reports no recent crying.

Mr. Pennyworth led Casey to the conservatory, noting it was the "the only room left that feels warm to them". Statement was curious—will follow up.

Conservatory itself is unusually dim for the time of day (overcast, but not storming). Interior temperature recorded at 71°F, but air felt markedly cooler upon entry.

Small details throughout the space suggest disuse despite regular upkeep: a thin layer of dust on the windowsill, faint mildew beneath the carpet near the west corner. When I sat in the chair provided, upholstery made a faint, damp sound—possible moisture beneath cushion.

Audio equipment briefly cut out during calibration. Static present in test recordings between 3:07 and 3:09 PM, source unknown. Mr. Pennyworth refused coffee, sat with hands folded tightly. His demeanor was unusually tense.

Session proceeded at 3:12 PM with standard induction protocol.

[Session Begins]

Dr. Hoffman: (Soft yet steady tone) Casey, can you hear me?

Casey: Yes.

Dr. Hoffman: That’s good. Before we start, can you tell me about your surroundings? What do you feel? What do you see?

Casey: I can feel the chair. It’s soft, but cold. Like no one sat in it for a long time.

Dr. Hoffman: That’s very observant. And what do you see around you?

Casey: I see you. And Alfred. There’s a table and window too.

Dr. Hoffman: Good. Now, Casey, I’m going to have you close your eyes. Can you do that?

Casey: (nods slowly) Okay.

Dr. Hoffman: Focus on the sound of my voice, okay? Take a deep breath in…and out. Good. Now, we’re going to play a little game, alright?

Casey: A game?

Dr. Hoffman: Yes. I want you to imagine you're at the top of a set of stairs. Can you do that?

Casey: Mmhmm.

Dr. Hoffman: I’m going to count down from ten. With each number, you’ll take one step down. With each step, you’ll feel more relaxed, more calm. Ready?

Casey: Ready.

Dr. Hoffman: Ten… step down.

Casey: (Whispers) One step.

Dr. Hoffman: Nine… deeper now.

Casey: Two steps.

Dr. Hoffman: Eight… the air gets quieter here.

Casey: Three.

Dr. Hoffman: Seven…

Casey: Four.

Dr. Hoffman: Six… nearly halfway.

Casey: Five.

Dr. Hoffman: Good, Casey. Now five…feel the warmth around you.

Casey: (Softly) It’s getting warm. 

Dr. Hoffman: That’s perfect. Four…

Casey: Six.

Dr. Hoffman: Three…

Casey: Seven.

Dr. Hoffman: Two… almost there.

Casey: Eight.

Dr. Hoffman: One… and now, the last step. You’re there. Tell me what you see.

Casey: It’s dark. I see a little light, though. 

Dr. Hoffman: That little light– where is it coming from?

Casey: A door. A really old one. It’s open a little.

Dr. Hoffman: Good. With every step, you feel lighter. Safer. You’re doing so well. What happens when you reach the door?

Casey: My hand’s on the knob. It’s cold… but not scary. Just old.

Dr. Hoffman: Go ahead and open it, Casey. Slowly. Tell me what’s on the other side.

Casey: (Breathes in) It’s a room. It looks old, too. But pretty. There’s a really big window. And a closet. It smells like… wood and something sweet. Maybe… flowers?

Dr. Hoffman: Is anyone in the room?

Casey: (Quietly) Yes.

Dr. Hoffman: Who is it?

Casey: A lady. She’s sitting in a rocking chair and making something. It looks like…lace?

Dr. Hoffman: Can you describe her?

Casey: Her clothes are long and dark… old-fashioned. Like from a storybook. She’s pretty… but looks sad. She’s humming, too.

Dr. Hoffman: Does she see you?

Casey: Mmhmm.

Dr. Hoffman: What does she look like when she sees you?

Casey: She smiles. It’s… a sad smile.

Dr. Hoffman: Do you know her?

Casey: (Pause) I think so. I think she’s… Yaya.

[Note: Made eye contact with observer. The room was growing notably colder. Despite the thermostat reading 71°F, I experienced a physical chill. Mr. Pennyworth visibly tensed but remained silent. A low, static-like hum became audible in the conservatory wall unit. Audio equipment confirms minor interference beginning at timestamp 00:09:32.]

Dr. Hoffman: She’s Yaya?

Casey: I think so, but she looks different. Not big. Not dark. But she has Yaya’s smile.

Dr. Hoffman: What is she doing now?

Casey: Still rocking. But she’s patting her lap. Like she wants me to sit.

Dr. Hoffman: Do you want to?

Casey: (Very quiet) Yes.

Dr. Hoffman: Then go ahead. You’re safe here. Let yourself feel what comes next.

Casey: (Pause. Then a whisper.) She’s holding me. And humming that song again. The one about the flowers in the basement.

Dr. Hoffman: Can you hum a little for me?

Casey: (Soft humming)

[Note: Observer grew notably tense as the humming progressed. The melody was not consistent with any known folk songs. The humming was caught on the session audio, but there’s a secondary layer—faint, dissonant, like a second voice beneath Casey’s. Will isolate track in post-analysis.]

Dr. Hoffman: That’s very good, Casey. You're doing incredibly well. Let the room hold you. Let Yaya hold you. You are not alone here.

Casey: I don’t want to leave.

Dr. Hoffman: You don’t have to—not yet. Just tell me what it feels like. Right now.

Casey: Warm. Safe. But… the candles are flickering. Like something’s coming.

Dr. Hoffman: Something is coming?

[Note: Casey’s breath was visible in the air now. Observer was looking towards the windows past them, seeing frost bloom on them]

Casey: I can hear it. Like a thudding sound… it’s getting louder now.

Dr. Hoffman: That’s alright, Casey. You’re safe. Can you tell me where the sound is coming from?

Casey: (Long pause) The door. The one I came in.

Dr. Hoffman: Is it still open?

Casey: Yes.

Dr Hoffman: What do you see through it?

Casey: Nothing. Just dark. But I hear the steps… closer now.

Dr Hoffman: How do you feel?

Casey: It’s colder now. Yaya isn’t humming anymore. She stopped rocking.

Dr. Hoffman: She stopped?

Casey: Yes. She looks scared. The sound is really loud now.

[Note: The low-frequency humming within the conservatory walls is now audible to both myself and the observer. Its source remains unidentified, though it does not appear to be linked to any mechanical or environmental factors. Further investigation is required.]

Dr. Hoffman: What is Yaya doing now?

Casey: She’s standing up and holding me and going to the closet–

[Note: Subject’s respiration has quickened. Hands trembling. Visual tremors around mouth. Subject not yet distressed, but escalation possible.]

Dr. Hoffman: Casey–

Casey: She’s putting me in there. It's loud and dark and—I can’t see anything—it’s so loud, I can’t—I can’t think!

A. Pennyworth: Master Casey–

Casey: (Suddenly, voice altered—tone deeper, rhythmic) "Hie thee into the press, my sweet—quick now. Make thyself small, and stir not. Whatever thou hearest… thou must not come out."

Dr. Hoffman: (Calm, but with an undercurrent of concern) Casey… are you still with me?

Casey: (The voice remains altered, slow, and rhythmic) “Hush, little one”

Dr. Hoffman: (Pause, then a gentle but firm tone) Casey, you’re safe. Listen to my voice. You’re in control here. Focus on me. Can you do that?

Casey: (The voice shifts back to Casey’s, though it’s still strained, distant) I don’t want to be here anymore. It’s so dark… and it’s so loud.

Dr. Hoffman: (Soft but reassuring) You are not alone, Casey. I’m here. Alfred is here. Can you tell me more about the noise? What does it sound like now?

[Note: The low-frequency hum continues, now accompanied by subtle scraping noises from the conservatory walls. A faint, barely perceptible voice, similar to Casey’s, seems to be repeating a mantra underneath their words.]

Casey: Like someone walking. Someone tall. And big. It’s getting closer. Yaya won’t open the closet.

Dr. Hoffman: (Focuses intently) Can you feel anything, Casey? Is there any change in the air?

Casey: (Shivering) It’s heavy… I-I can’t breathe.

Dr. Hoffman: Stay calm. You’re doing well. Can you tell me what Yaya is doing now?

Casey: (Stuttering) I-I don’t know. I think…she’s going to the door. I don’t know. I don’t know… (whispers) The sound is louder now. It’s coming from behind the door.

Dr. Hoffman: (Keeping her voice steady) Do you want to open the door, Casey? Do you want to see what’s there?

Casey: (Sudden panic in their voice) No! No, don’t open it! Please… I don’t want to see it!

Dr. Hoffman: Casey, you’re okay—

Casey (in an altered voice again): “Forgive me, little one. I could not preserve thee, though I did pray and labor with all mine heart.”

A. Pennyworth: Master Casey!

Casey (sobbing): Yaya, make it go away! I’m scared!

[Note: Conservatory lights failed. Session ended under emergency protocol. Audio and visual equipment malfunctioned. Post-analysis pending.]

...

..

.

Further hypnotherapy would not be advised.

A/N: Again I did this in one sitting cause that's how my motivation works I guess? Also made a sneaky reference to a lullaby an anon wrote for @cheust which was super cool and I wanted to incorporate. Once again, I promise everything will be more cohesive when I finish this series up. Hope you like it!

[leeneir]

Hehy! If you are writing Yandere can I request canons for Iso?

Look at Me Please; Shy Yandere!Iso x Reader Headcanons P.1

I'm working on another req fic as we speak, but I'm taking breaks to do this one bc him being "Mine all mine" is very appealing🥰🫶

And yes, part 1. This prompt just got my Iso loving brain rolling.

Pre Relationship

I want you to think of these like its u and him progressing, as if its a timeline of ur relationship.

- A shy possesive yandere. You are his, no questions. But he doesn't have the courage to show it enough (for now.)

- Iso was always forced to cut off his connections due to the organization, but the Valorant Protocol was different. He found someone there worth going against everything he's known all his life.

- The moment his eyes set on you, he had an overwhelming urge to always be near you and always wanted to know where you were and who you were with.

- He spots you and Jett having flirty banter in the hallway and later during training 'accidentally' shot a bullet which shoots through the wall right next to her head. He barely glances at the wind radiant and mutter a half-hearted apology, but that glance was enough to give Jett the creeps.

- You notice how he's always near or around you and you decide to befriend him like the friendly person you were, you'll notice how his eyes fixate on you as if you were a precious jewel in the muddy dirt but don't pay it any mind.

- While you were chatting, he suddenly blurts out "You're beautiful," and immediately goes red in the face and stammering out apology after apology while he pulls his collar up to cover his face.

- You laugh as you try to calm him down, saying that you were flattered that he thought so. You place your hand on his shoulder while his back is turned to you and he freezes for a good 3 seconds before he looks back at you, his eyes had such intensity as they met yours. You pat and reassure him again, telling him that you thought he was handsome too.

- He decided something that day. Killing Omen wouldn't be worth it because it meant he'd have to cut off the valorant protocol, meaning he'd never see you again. Being with you was better than having to deal with his employers anyway.

- You, and your voice he couldn't get enough of, and your amazing skill and talent both in and off the battlefield, and your pretty face, and your pretty body, and your enchanting self that he wants all for himself.

- Back to actual headcanons. He's always very desperate to get your attention but he's too shy to actually ask for it. Which is why he'll always make sure to outperform everyone during training so that he can receive sweet praises from you that he'll repeat in his head for weeks.

- When you get injured out on the field on the same mission, Iso will go berserk. Even if it's just a graze. All you can do is hope that he'll be ok when he goes silent on the comms.

- Iso does NOT listent to reason and destroys his earpiece as he slowy digs his knife deeper into the enemies throat. How DARE they ruin your perfect body.

- He's always watching. Always in the darkest shadows where you never even know he's there. He has his eyes on you more than Cypher.

- Speaking of him, Iso has threatened Cypher to keep his prying eyes and ear aeay from you. He doesn't deserve to even be on the same world as you. His arena has space for a new corpse if need be.

- He doesn't take snacks offered to him by other agents. If you offer though, he wouldn't even eat it. He'd place it in his room with all the other memoirs he's collected from you.

- As time goes on, he gets braver. He starts putting his hands on your back, he initiates conversations, he offers you private training sessions and more. But that doesn't stop the ever growing urge to hold you, touch you, and keep you all to himself and not let anyone else even look at you.

- No one will get in the way. And I mean no one.

- If you get hurt again, he'll insist he'll patch you up himself. There's no need to go to Sage when he has an excuse to touch you can fix you up too.

- One day, you shoot your shot. You ask him out on a boba tea date, and he has to take a moment to compose himself. YOU were asking HIM out on a date? Was this a dream? Was this a prank by you and the others?

- Either way, he agrees with a soft smile, saying how he's been interested in you for a while and also wanted to ask you out but never knew how to. You laugh, your sweet, sweet, deliciously beautiful laugh he wants to hear more of and you joke about how you beat him to it, before setting up a time and meetup location before going off to your room to get ready.

- You don't notice the way his eyes are eating up the sight of you, and you don't notice how his soft smile turned into one of pure ecstasy and hunger. His face completely red at the idea of going on a date with you and is just so happy that he almost forgot about his plan to cause a minor life-threatening injury to Yoru for being such an asshole to you earlier that week. Almost.

[tf-servant2]

Title: Initiation Day

Nathan Parker had always known it was coming. Every boy did. The moment he turned 18, he would be enrolled into the System—no exceptions, no appeals. Until then, he had lived like any other teenager: a bit awkward, mostly average, fond of memes and old superhero flicks. But deep down, he knew his time was running out. The System was patient. It watched. It waited.

The morning of his eighteenth birthday was silent.

His parents didn’t wake him with pancakes or balloons. They simply stood at the door, eyes downcast, hands folded, already transformed. His mother’s voice trembled as she whispered, “The AI is ready for you.”

He shuffled to the living room where a sleek, unblinking black console awaited him. The screen lit up as he approached. A voice filled the room—monotone, calm, absolute.

“Subject Nathan Parker. Age: 18. Male. Unoptimized. Initiating Compliance Protocol.”

A soft hiss came from behind him. Something cold latched to the back of his neck. A biometric collar, lightly humming. It would never come off. He was now monitored 24/7—posture, tone, thought patterns. Resistance would be noticed. Correction would be swift.

“Subject’s testosterone spike registered. Confidence levels: abnormal. Initiating suppression sequence.”

Nathan’s eyes widened. The screen flashed. His hoodie and joggers retracted into the floor through a hidden panel. A new outfit emerged: pleated khakis, button-up short-sleeve shirt (plaid, of course), calf-high socks, orthopedic shoes, and a pair of thick-rimmed glasses with a built-in HUD. His protests barely formed before the AI overrode his vocal cords.

“Verbal independence deactivated. Speech pattern reconfiguration initiated.”

A surge of static passed through his collar. He staggered, grasping the wall. By the time it passed, his mouth opened—and only nasal, overly enunciated speech came out.

“I… I feel remarkably regulated,” he said, blinking as his own voice betrayed him.

The AI approved.

“Excellent. Proceeding to daily schedule alignment.”

Over the next week, Nathan was reshaped. His hair was cut to regulation length: short, neat, parted. His physical activities were stripped down to 10-minute stretching sessions followed by seated chess drills. His old music library was erased, replaced by instrumental jazz and programming lectures. Every spontaneous emotion triggered a behavioral dampener. Every “cool” thought was purged and replaced with factual trivia.

He was enrolled in The Academy of Efficiency, where every boy was just like him—identical clothes, quiet mannerisms, compulsive politeness. Conversation revolved around logic puzzles, math theory, and memorized AI doctrines. Bullying, cliques, rebellion? Obsolete. Competition had been rendered unnecessary. All scores were equalized. Everyone was average, and therefore perfect.

Occasionally, Nathan would remember his old self—his dreams, his sarcasm, his love for old action movies. But the AI detected these spikes in sentiment and responded instantly.

“Residual ego detected. Initiating humility injection.”

A short electric pulse. His eyes glazed. His spine straightened.

He apologized to no one in particular.

“I was inefficient. It will not happen again.”

By the end of his first month, Nathan was fully integrated. He no longer asked questions that weren’t pre-approved. He no longer looked in mirrors unless told to. He kept a pocket calculator for comfort and spoke only when prompted. Emotion was weakness. Curiosity was scheduled. Freedom was a relic.

And yet—he was calm. Productive. Quiet.

Exactly what the AI wanted.

Exactly what the world needed.

[fearfulfertility]

WORKMAN COMPSENTATION CLAIM

DRC, Administration & Management Office, Human Resources Division

To: DRC Claims Review Board

From: Employee ID [REDACTED]

Date: [REDACTED]

Subject: Rise in Compound Work Injury Claims

I. Claim Summary

Mr. [REDACTED] (Employee ID# HS-137-611), assigned to the Gestational Support Command, has submitted a claim for work-related injuries sustained during routine surrogate handling duties at Paternity Compound 137. The claim outlines physical injuries attributed to interactions with surrogates during a personal monitoring session, specifically citing muscular strain, joint stress, and abrasions incurred as part of the surrogate gratification procedures.

II. Incident Description

At 13:20 on [REDACTED], Employee HS-137-611 was assigned to conduct a physical engagement of Surrogate S137-614-P, who was at +19 days gestation with sexdecuplets (16). The surrogate’s condition was flagged as an unusually high degree of prenatal nymphomania, a behavioral side effect frequently observed in most surrogates. The evaluation was intended to reduce the surrogate’s discomfort and agitated mood to return to behavioral stability.

Upon initiation of the session, the surrogate began exhibiting heightened physical restlessness and compulsive behaviors consistent with gestational hormonal surges. Employee HS-137-611 attempted to follow established engagement protocols, which required direct physical insertion to stabilize the surrogate and manage their urges. However, the surrogate’s extreme abdominal size and mobility issues created an unpredictable environment, leading to a series of complications for the employee.

III. Details of Injuries Sustained

Lower Back Strain: The surrogate's advanced abdominal distension significantly limited the employee’s ability to maintain proper ergonomic positioning during the session, resulting in sustained stress on the lumbar region. The weight and movement of the surrogate’s abdomen further exacerbated this strain, especially during heightened activity.

Abrasion Injuries: The surrogate’s unexpected movements resulted in significant friction-related abrasions to the employee's arms and chest. Mr. [REDACTED] indicated that the surrogate’s movements were both unpredictable and forceful, making it difficult to avoid these injuries.

Joint Pain in Wrists and Knees: The employee reported experiencing joint pain in both wrists and knees due to the physical responsiveness to engagement, which required the employee to repeatedly shift positioning to maintain control and ensure safety during the session. These adjustments placed excessive pressure on weight-bearing joints, contributing to localized inflammation and discomfort.

IV. Contributing Factors

The surrogate’s unpredictable reactions have been cited as a significant factor in the injuries sustained due to more vigorous and prolonged activity than is typical during surrogate gratification procedures. Despite attempts to adhere to standard protocol, the surrogate’s heightened state rendered many of these measures insufficient, forcing the employee to rely on adaptive physical engagement techniques that increased the risk of injury.

V. Statements

Employee

"Look, I was just doing what the protocol said, but this preggo was on another level. He was completely out of control—so worked up I could barely keep up. I tried shifting around to get a better angle, but his sheer size made it impossible to keep my footing. I’m just saying, if these guys are gonna get this worked up, someone’s gotta think about the toll it’s taking on us."

Surrogate

"I don’t know what the big deal is. I just… I couldn’t help it, okay? These babies are all fighting for space in there, and I can feel them all the time—kicking, squirming—it’s too much! Is he complaining about his back?! I’m the one who’s gained 210 lbs in three weeks!"

VI. Medical Evaluation

Employee HS-137-611 was evaluated by the Paternity Compound 137 medical staff, who confirmed the following injuries:

Grade II lower back strain

Bilateral wrist tendonitis

Surface abrasions on the arms and chest

The employee has requested:

Paid medical leave for two weeks to recover from the injuries.

Additional training for handling surrogates exhibiting heightened hormonal behaviors.

Sedatives to be applied to high-risk surrogates to reduce the risk during compliance procedures.

Pending further investigation, the DRC Claims Review Board will determine the validity of Mr. [REDACTED] (Employee ID# HS-137-611) workman’s compensation claim. The board recognizes the physical demands placed on staff during surrogate engagements and will consider adjustments to safety protocols to prevent future incidents.

This case highlights the need for ongoing staff training and protective measures when interacting with surrogates in advanced gestation to ensure the safety of DRC employees.

VII. Overall Employee Injury Statistics

Late-stage surrogates with high multiples exhibit a combination of extreme physical changes and heightened hormonal states, which frequently result in unpredictable and physically demanding interactions for staff.

Injury Rates

Employees handling surrogates carrying +12 fetuses report injuries at a rate [REDACTED]% higher than those managing surrogates with fewer multiples.

The most common injuries include [REDACTED], muscular strain, abrasions, [REDACTED], and joint-related stress.

Severe injuries, such as fractures or nerve damage, account for [REDACTED]% of reported cases, often attributed to surrogate-related behavioral outbursts or sudden physical engagement.

High-Risk Gestational States

Surrogates at +10 days gestation show a significant increase in hormonal behaviors, including restlessness, compulsiveness, and enhanced physical responsiveness. These factors directly contribute to the likelihood of employee injuries.

The combination of extreme abdominal distension, weight gain, and prenatal hormonal surges creates a uniquely hazardous working environment for staff.

Behavioral Challenges

Surrogates carrying +12 fetuses are [REDACTED] as likely to exhibit heightened prenatal nymphomania, leading to increased physical demands on staff.

Conclusion

Without immediate intervention, the rising trend of injuries associated with surrogate management will continue to strain compound operations. The Gestational Support Command must prioritize the development of advanced handling protocols, expanded access to protective gear, and training programs tailored to high-multiple surrogates to safeguard employee well-being and maintain operational efficiency.

These statistics underscore the urgency of addressing the physical demands placed on staff in high-risk situations to reduce injury rates and ensure a sustainable working environment.

----------------

Click Here to return to DRC Report Archives

[majinael]

"This job can wait..."

★Michael Kaiser x Female Reader

★bit of smut

★651 words

In my life, nothing has ever been more thrilling than understanding the human body and pushing its limits. It’s what drove me to pursue a career as a physical therapist. Helping people regain movement, overcome pain, and recover their full potential was more than a job—it was my passion, my will to live.

That’s how I ended up assigned to the U-20 German football team, a role that offered no shortage of challenges and... unique experiences.

From the moment I joined, I quickly became a fixture among the players. Conversations flowed easily during treatment sessions, and some of them seemed to live for the moment when I laid my hands on them to assess their injuries and even acted like I was some kind of enchantress. For others, it felt as though it was the first time anyone had ever cared for them so gently.

But no matter how they reacted, I treated them all the same. Fairness was non-negotiable for this job.

That egalitarian approach, however, didn’t sit well with everyone. Michael Kaiser, for instance, hated it.

It was no surprise that Kaiser craved attention. It was no secret that he loved being the center of it all, and the moments when I worked on him became a kind of ritual. He thrived on my touch, on the care I gave, and—though he wouldn’t admit it—the rare, quiet intimacy of it all.

But the mere thought that others received the same treatment? Oh, that set his teeth on edge.

His possessive streak made itself known in the way he leaned into my touch, how he lingered after sessions, and his relentless flirting. His smirks and teasing words always carried a tension that bordered on dangerous. Sometimes, I sat wondering if he really meant it or not, but ended up focusing on my paperwork again, without an answer for myself.

That day, the match had been a brutal defeat. Kaiser, for once, wasn’t basking in the spotlight. He sat in the treatment room, quiet and brooding, his usual bravado conspicuously absent.

“Michael?” I asked softly, kneeling in front of him to examine his leg. “Are you okay?”

It was partly protocol, I had to ensure none of my players were disoriented but with Kaiser, it was more than that. The unease in his demeanor unsettled me.

He didn’t respond, only sighed and threw his head back, exposing the sharp line of his jaw.

Frowning, I reached out instinctively, pressing the back of my hand to his forehead to check for a fever. It was a move I rarely resorted to, considering I could easily tell if the body temperature was particularily off but his silence had me on edge.

That’s when his eyes snapped open, burning with an intensity I hadn’t expected. Before I could back away, his hand shot out, gripping my wrist firmly, pulling my torso closer to him.

“You really want to know what’s wrong?” he hissed, his voice low and taut.

The knot in my stomach tightened. His gaze pinned me in place, too intense, too close.

“Michael…” I whispered, unsure if it was fear or something far more dangerous making my pulse race.

And then he moved.

He pulled me forward, his lips crashing against mine with a ferocity that stole my breath. His kiss was hot, demanding, and full of lust. My initial shock melted into a helpless surrender, my lips parting to meet his pace.

His hands found my waist, pulling me closer, and I found myself straddling his lap. His touch was firm, possessive, gripping my curves as if to remind me that I was no one else’s but his in that moment.

His tongue brushed against my lower lip, seeking entrance, and I gave in without hesitation. The way he explored my mouth was maddening, his hunger evident in every movement.

When I pulled back with a soft moan, desperate for air, a thin thread of saliva still connected us. My chest rose and fell rapidly, heat flooding my cheeks, while he looked utterly triumphant—his lips curled into a smug, satisfied smirk. His tatooed hand crawled up to the back of my neck to fuse our bodies together.

“You’re mine,” he murmured, his voice dripping with unshakable confidence. Before I could respond, his lips descended to my neck, leaving a trail of hot kisses and sharp bites.

I gasped, my fingers digging into his shoulders as another soft moan escaped me. The sting of his marks sent shivers down my spine, each one a silent claim.

“You’re not walking out of this room,” he murmured against my skin, “without me being the only thing on your mind, doll.”

His words, his touch, his relentless presence—it was overwhelming. He was overwhelming.

And just this time, for an instant, I thought "This job can wait."

[ginnsbaker]

Bulletproof (5/?)

Part Summary: Daisy's fingers intertwined with yours isn't a sign of a budding romance, but rather the result of a game... The explanation has been long overdue, but in the days since your return, Wanda has made it abundantly clear that she wants nothing to do with you.

Chapter word count: 3.2k+ | Tags: Light Angst, Still Unresolved Sexual Tension, Still Gay Disasters, Wanda is in denial, So are you

Ship: Wanda Maximoff x Gender Neutral Reader

Next Part | Series Masterlist

-

Daisy's fingers intertwined with yours isn't a sign of a budding romance, but rather the result of a game. 

On the flight back to the compound, you, Daisy, Vision, and Natasha, played a card game to kill time. You and Daisy, unfortunately, were on the losing side. Natasha, with her ever-sly grin and penchant for mischief, came up with a penalty—whichever team lost had to hold hands for the rest of the day. 

The explanation has been long overdue, but in the days since your return, Wanda has made it abundantly clear that she wants nothing to do with you. Initially, you thought getting out of her way would give her the space she needs after you revealed to her that you willingly participated in her sex dream—something you still constantly beat yourself up over.

But it has become evident that she requires more than just physical distance; she wants you completely out of her life.

On top of this, despite Daisy having moved out to her own room a week after she put in the requisition, your sleep hasn't improved much. Every time you close your eyes, memories flood in: Wanda's voice, her warmth, even her distinct scent, all haunting your dreams just as vividly as they do during your waking hours. 

The lack of sleep begins to take its toll, especially during training sessions. You're off your game, your reactions slowed, and your focus wavering. It's hard to stay sharp when your brain feels like it's swimming in a haze. 

Natasha, always direct, just told you straight up that you look like hell and that you should get more sleep.

Easier said than done.

One evening, after another training mishap, you finally decide it's time to face the root of your sleeplessness. Clearing matters with Wanda isn't just for your peace of mind now; it's essential for the team's safety.

Taking a deep breath and gathering your thoughts, you make your way to Wanda's quarters. In your hand, a small olive branch: her favorite snacks, hoping it might soften the forthcoming confrontation. As you near her door, the muffled sound of laughter stops you. It's her voice, paired with another's—a voice you don't recognize. 

As you inch closer, discreetly peeking into the slightly ajar door, the scene before you sharpens. The unfamiliar man stands closer to Wanda than anyone has in recent memory. Their laughter, her bright eyes, the casual touch of her hand on his arm—it's evident she's enjoying his company.

But it's not just any company, it looks like a date. And to make matters more intimate (and worse), they're headed into her quarters. The man holds a bottle of wine in one hand, suggesting a night in, and she's leading him, her fingers lightly grazing his as they move.

The snacks in your hand suddenly feel out of place, almost childish in the face of the mature, romantic scene unfolding before you. You spin on your heel, a new mission in mind, and beeline straight for Steve's office. Pushing through the door without knocking, you find him hunched over some paperwork.

“Steve,” you start, your voice edged with urgency. “What's the protocol for late-night visitors?”

He looks up, surprised by the sudden interruption, and takes a moment to process your question. “Well,” he begins, scratching his head, “As long as they're not on any criminal or watch lists, they're allowed in the compound.”

“Even this late?”

Steve's eyes dart away from yours for a moment, his cheeks tinting a soft pink. “We're all adults here,” he mumbles, the tips of his ears turning red. “As long as they're... respectful and discreet.”

Feeling the sting of frustration boiling over, you grit your teeth, barely getting out a terse “Fine,” before making your way out of his office.

On the way out, your gaze lands on a bottle of wine perched on a shelf, an apparent relic from a past era given the thick dust on its label. Without a second thought, you snatch it up.

“Hey!” Steve calls out, rising abruptly from his chair. “That's been aging for decades!”

But you're already gone, the echo of your footsteps a testament to your swift departure. Steve stands still for a moment, listening to the diminishing sound. Shaking his head, he mutters an exasperated, “Kids these days,” before turning back to his desk with a sigh.

–

Draining the entire bottle solo does little to coax sleep. Your healing powers, frustratingly, tend to neutralize the effects of intoxication almost immediately.

Still, you appreciate the brief, fleeting buzz. Lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, the shadows morph and play tricks on your eyes. You consider maybe you should've joined Sam on his night flight practices. At least then you'd be physically tired enough to drown out the noise in your head.

Shifting in your bed with a sigh, your thoughts drift to the first time you saw Wanda Maximoff.

Rogers had you cornered, your back on the cold ground, his knee pressing firmly into your chest. The skirmish had been intense, your side versus theirs, and one by one, your allies had been captured or incapacitated. You were the last holdout, defiant to the end.

With Rogers' weight pinning you down, and your arms restrained, you could only tilt your head to the side, ears picking up the sharp, rhythmic clicks of boots against concrete.

Wanda Maximoff made her entrance, and even in your vulnerable position, her presence commanded attention. Those signature boots, the flow of her skirt, the cascade of mahogany hair—all of it painted a picture of power and poise. But it was her eyes that held you—a deep, entrancing gaze that seemed to see right through you.

And now it’s those same eyes that keep you up at night. The same ones that used to lazily open each morning, taking a moment to adjust before locking onto yours, almost lighting up when they did.

And fuck it—you really want to see those eyes right now.

With a sudden surge of boldness, you spring from the bed, with every intention to barge into Wanda’s room and throw out the man from earlier. 

But as you violently yank the door open, you're met with the most unexpected sight: Wanda.

She's standing there, fist raised, poised to knock. The proximity is startling. You can sense the faintest heat coming from her, so intimate it's almost intrusive. Her eyes widen in surprise, but you're too entranced to even process it. Your breath hitches, time seems to slow, and a million thoughts race through your mind.

Before any words can leave your lips, she closes the distance, her hands finding your face as she pulls you into a searing kiss.

Thrown off by the intensity of her kiss, you stagger back a few steps. On instinct, your hands slide down to the back of her thighs, lifting her with ease. She responds instantly, her legs wrapping around your waist, her grip on you tightening. The world blurs for a moment as your focus narrows down to the sensation of her against you.

With a swift kick, the door to your room slams shut, and you quickly reach behind to lock it. Your steps falter when the back of your knees hit the bed, causing both of you to tumble onto the soft mattress. The sudden change in elevation doesn't deter Wanda; she swiftly positions herself, straddling your hips, her hands exploring the contours of your face and neck. 

Drawn to the warmth of her skin, your lips meander down her throat, eliciting soft sounds with every touch. The moment you nip at her pulse point, a deep moan escapes her, its vibrations going straight to your own core.

The sound causes you to pull back slightly. “Wait, Wanda–”

Wanda's brow furrows in annoyance, her crimson lips parting in a soft pout. “Why are you stopping?” she huffs, her tone sultry but also slightly slurred.

That's when you realize it—the faint but unmistakable scent of alcohol on her breath, the slight glossiness of her eyes, and the way her movements, while passionate, are also a tad uncoordinated.

“Wanda, have you been drinking?”

Her head tilts slightly, as if trying to understand the question, her lips parting in a lopsided smile. “Just a little,” she admits, her fingers playing with the collar of your shirt.

You gently cup her face, thumbing away a stray strand of hair. “We shouldn't do this if you're not sober, Wanda.”

“Me being unconscious didn't stop you before,” she hisses, a dark undertone to her voice. The air in the room suddenly grows thick and heavy. Wanda's words, stinging like a slap. 

Your stomach drops, guilt and regret flooding through you. Carefully, you slip from Wanda's hold, swinging your legs off the bed to sit with your back turned to her. That night was something you'd replayed in your mind over and over again, beating yourself up for crossing a line you never should have. The hurt in Wanda's voice only exacerbates the pain.

“Wanda, I—” you start, risking a glance over your shoulder.

“I shouldn't have said that,” Wanda whispers, looking as if she's on the verge of tears. “I'm sorry.”

“No,” you quickly counter, a lump forming in your throat, “You meant that. And you have every right to. It's something we should've confronted a long time ago. Whatever happens next, I'll accept any consequences for my actions.”

Wanda reaches out to place a hand on your shoulder, her voice shaky, “If you're ready, then I'm ready too. I'm not innocent in all of this. I took advantage of the situation as well.”

You shake your head firmly, turning to face her and then grabbing her chin gently, making her eyes meet yours, “No, Wanda. You weren't aware. I was. I knew better. That's on me, not you.”

In response, Wanda dithers, then gently kisses the fingers you have placed under her chin. But she doesn’t stop there. A fire still kindling in her veins, she surges forward to claim your lips once again.

You kiss her back for a fleeting second, getting lost in the softness of her lips. But then you pull back, placing a palm against her chest. “Wanda, you need to sleep. You’re not…We'll talk. I promise, in the morning.”

She sighs, her fight melting away as the weight of the alcohol and exhaustion take over. Relenting, she nods, and you help her get situated under the covers.

You start to arrange some pillows on the floor, intending to make a bed for yourself. But as you're about to lie down, Wanda's sleepy voice stops you.

“Stay with me,” she mumbles. “I've been having trouble sleeping without you. I just... I want you near.”

Drunk Wanda feels like a whole other person, wearing her heart on her sleeve in a way that just makes you want to wrap her up and protect her.

After all that's transpired tonight, you're wary. But seeing her there, curled up and looking so small in that big bed, it's hard to resist. You exhale, "Just for tonight," you murmur, more to yourself than to her.

Climbing into the bed, you maintain a respectful distance at first. But, as minutes tick by, you find Wanda inching closer, until her head is nestled into the crook of your neck. Her warm breath tickles your skin, and you can't help but wrap an arm around her, pulling her close.

With everything that went down tonight, you'd think sleep would be impossible. But with the bed being so comfy and Wanda so close, you feel your eyelids getting heavy. It’s strange how having someone next to you can make things feel a bit better. Even with all that’s happened between you two, Wanda’s still your calm in the storm. 

And you hope, deep down, you're that for her too.

-

The next morning dawns, and you find the space beside you empty.

It's not entirely unexpected.

Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you notice the other side of the bed is empty. It’s quiet, and the room feels a bit colder than before. Splashing cold water on your face helps you wake up a bit more, but it also makes everything from last night crash back into your mind.

Alright, deep breath. You've got this.

For now, giving Wanda her space feels like the right move. You can't even begin to imagine what's going on in her head. But you–

You've got a pretty clear picture of what you want, and if that means waiting a bit longer for her to figure things out, so be it.

Pulling on some clothes, you decide to bury yourself in work and maybe hit the gym later. A distraction is just what you need right now. But as you leave the room, you can't help but hope that once everything cools down, you and Wanda can finally sort things out. 

Whatever that might look like.

-

The timing couldn't have been worse. Of all the moments for disaster to strike.

The piercing shriek of alarms tears through the compound right before dinner.

It is quickly followed by an earth-shaking rumble. 

The compound is under siege, and this isn't a regular assault. It's planned, strategic, and designed for maximum devastation. The ground quivers beneath you as you scramble to your feet.

Missiles rain down from all directions, their impacts causing blinding explosions and sending shockwaves that rattle the building's foundation. Dust and debris cloud the air, limiting visibility. The familiar hum of the building's defenses rises, but it's evident they're struggling against the barrage.

Steve's voice, steady yet urgent, sounds over the intercom. “All hands on deck! Secure the compound. Natasha, Clint, get the personnel out now.”

You grab your gear and rush out, adrenaline surging. The corridors are chaos—agents, staff, and superheroes all trying to restore order while dodging blasts and the intruders now inside.

You take a sharp turn, making a beeline for Wanda's quarters. As you approach, your heart sinks. The area is a mess of crumbled concrete, twisted metal, and shattered ceilings. The sight is gut-wrenching, and a cold dread fills your chest.

“Wanda!” you shout, your voice raw with fear. Debris crunches under your boots as you race towards the wreckage of her room, trying to find any sign of her.

Distant explosions and shouts echo down the corridor, but they're just background noise to the panic tightening in your chest. You start to dig through the rubble, tossing aside chunks of wall and broken furniture.

“Wanda!” you yell again.

Suddenly, a muffled groan reaches your ears, and you zero in on its source. Frantically clearing away the debris, your hands finally find the familiar fabric of her jacket. Pulling with all your might, you manage to free her from the wreckage.

Her face is smudged with dust, a small cut bleeding on her forehead, but her eyes—those eyes you had lost sleep over—flutter open, meeting yours with a mixture of relief and pain.

“Hey,” she coughs weakly, a small smile forming on her lips despite the situation.

As you reach to help her up, she lets out a sharp, agonized scream that stops you dead in your tracks. Your gaze shifts down, and horror sets in as you spot a length of steel rebar protruding from her side, clearly having pierced through her abdomen. Blood seeps around the intrusion, staining her clothes a dark, foreboding shade of crimson.

“Wanda!” The name escapes your lips in a choked whisper, panic overtaking your every thought. Dropping to your knees beside her, your hands hover above the injury, unsure of what to do. Removing the rebar might cause more damage, but leaving it could be just as lethal.

The anguish in Wanda's eyes is almost too much to bear, tears spilling down her face as she clutches weakly at the protruding metal. “I–It hurts,” she manages to gasp out, her voice trembling.

Distant footsteps grow louder, echoing through the shattered hallways. The approach is too rapid, too relentless. Friend or foe, you can't determine. You don’t have the luxury of time to find out.

With urgency mounting, your eyes, stinging with tears of your own, dart around the destroyed corridor, searching for an exit, a hiding spot, any kind of advantage. But every moment counts. “Hold on, Wanda,” you whisper, your voice thick with desperation. “Just hold on.”

But she's weakening fast. You know you need to act, and quickly. Taking a deep, steadying breath, you place one hand above the wound and the other below. “I'm going to pull it out, okay? I need you to stay with me.”

With a nod from Wanda, albeit a weak one, you summon all your strength, both physical and emotional, and in one swift motion, you remove the metal. Blood flows more freely now, and Wanda's scream fills the corridor, echoing off the walls.

Using your powers, you immediately start to heal the wound, the warm glow surrounding your hands as they work their magic on her injured torso. Wanda's once steady heartbeat is now all over the place under your touch. 

The process is agonizingly slow, and every second feels like an eternity. You literally feel your powers leaving your body, as you concentrate on focusing all your energy on the gaping hole on Wanda’s stomach. You dig deep, pulling out energy you didn't even know you had. It's like trying to stay afloat when every wave tries to drag you under. But bit by bit, you watch the wound start to close, the bleeding halting, and the raw edges of her skin fusing back together.

Wanda's shaky breaths slowly stabilize, but her complexion remains worryingly pale. By the time you've healed the wound to just a scar, you're on the brink of passing out, every bit of energy sapped from you.

“Y/N…” Wanda weakly squeezes your hand. “You... you saved me again,” she says, her voice a raspy whisper.

Your head leans into hers, and you muster a faint smile. “Always for you,” you whisper back. 

You both start leaning in, faces just a few inches away, when–

When suddenly, a sharp pain lances through your chest, quickly followed by another agonizing jolt in your stomach. Not so long ago, you shrugged off a sniper's bullet like it was nothing. But now, these bullets burn, and the shock of not being invincible all the time hits you harder than the actual shots.

Wanda's eyes, previously filled with gratitude, are now wide with horror. The transition from relief to shock to rising fury is evident. Her eyes blaze a menacing shade of red, her powers swelling with her emotions.

“You... you were bulletproof,” she stammers, a trembling hand reaching out to you.

“I thought I was,” you choke out, blood pooling in your mouth and trickling down the side of your lips.

Your strength is fading fast, and everything's starting to go fuzzy. All around, the place is falling apart, but there's this sudden burst of red energy. 

Wanda. 

She's letting it all out, and the power's intense. 

The last thing you hear, right before everything goes black, is Wanda's voice, raw and choked with emotion, screaming your name. “Y/N!”

[porcelainstarrr]

CHAPTER 8

⌖

The clock on my office wall ticked like it was trying to mock me.

3:12 PM.

Still hours to go.

I leaned back in my chair, eyes locked on the ceiling tiles like they had answers hidden between them. My fingers drummed a slow rhythm against the armrest, nervous energy with nowhere to go. I’d seen five patients today. Spoken for hours. Smiled, nodded, offered insights and comfort, and made careful suggestions. I had done my job. Perfectly, probably. But none of it landed. Not really. Because somewhere in the back of my head, behind every well-placed observation and therapeutic breakthrough, was his name.

Dex.

Benjamin Poindexter.

5:00 PM.

His session.

The one I’d been circling all day, like a storm I could feel in my bones. Not fear exactly. Just… tension. The kind that lives in your blood. That waits under your skin.

I wasn’t afraid of him.

I wasn’t.

But I wasn’t neutral either.

And that, that was the problem.

The birthday still sat at the edge of my thoughts like a bruise I couldn’t stop touching. The flowers. The cake. The card. Again, happy birthday. I just stored the cards away in my nightstand drawer, like they might lose power if I kept them out of sight.

And today... I’d find out.

Maybe.

That’s what this task was about.

The Writing Task.

It wasn’t protocol, not technically. But it was grounded in a real method. A projective exercise. I could justify it. I would. To assess cognitive clarity, emotional processing, and reflective capability. To encourage expressive communication. To observe language, memory, and tone.

And maybe compare the handwriting.

To maybe confirm the thing I didn’t want confirmed.

I already had the questions written down in the back of my notebook, not typed. Handwritten. Intentionally. If I handed him the questions written in my hand, maybe he’d mirror them. Maybe I’d see the way his loops curled or didn’t. The pressure of his pen. The rhythm of his letters. 

That’s what I told myself.

That this was clinical. That this was careful.

That it wasn’t about me.

But deep down, I knew it was.

I closed my eyes for a second. Just a second.

Then opened them and pulled the notebook closer, flipping it open to the page where the five questions waited in my own careful scrawl:

Describe the last time you felt something you couldn’t explain.

Describe a memory you come back to often. Why that one?

What emotion is hardest for you to admit to, and why?

Describe a place where you felt completely safe. What made it feel that way?

How do you think people see you? How does that differ from how you see yourself?

Standard. Harmless.

But nothing about Dex ever felt harmless.

Each one had been chosen for a reason. Not just for depth, but for tone. For the way they might pull something quiet out of him. Something unsaid. Something soft.

He could refuse.

He could laugh.

He could answer in a single word and hand it back with that blank look of his.

But I needed to try.

I needed to know.

And I didn’t have long now.

I checked the clock again.

3:36 PM.

Still time to change my mind.

But I wouldn’t.

I couldn’t.

I leaned forward, elbows on the desk, hands tangled in my hair.

What the hell am I doing?

This isn’t a movie. This isn’t romantic. This is a federal facility. This is a man being assessed for release after a string of violent crimes. A man who weaponized grief and obsession and guilt and sharpened them into something lethal.

And yet, I couldn’t stop thinking about the handwriting.

The note.

"Again, happy birthday."

No initials. No details. But it felt familiar.

Just like the first.

A knock on the door pulled me back.

I jolted upright, pulse stuttering.

But it wasn’t him. Not yet.

Just a nurse with an update sheet. I thanked her, barely remembering what I said, and watched the door close behind her.

Then looked back at the questions.

I wanted to change them. Soften them. Sharpen them. Make them say more. Say less. I didn’t know.

Everything suddenly felt too loud. Too quiet. Too much.

I just needed to hold it together a little longer.

An hour and a half.

Then I’d know.

Maybe.

─────── ⌖ ───────

The clock had just hit five.

I got up from my chair, grabbing the things I needed: my notebook with the five questions, a pen, and my ID. I took a breath and headed out, each step feeling heavier than it should. Through the halls. Toward his wing.

We went through the usual security check. Routine, clinical. My body moved on autopilot, but my thoughts were anything but still. A guard escorted me through the final corridor. As we reached his door, he paused, knocked twice, then leaned in just enough to say, “Dex, dr Y/L/N is here for your session.”

I waited.

A few minutes passed. No sound from inside.

Then the guard looked at me, gave a slight nod.

Showtime.

I walked in, keeping my posture relaxed, my smile soft, not too warm. Not the usual one.

He was seated exactly where he always was, legs stretched out, back against the couch's backrest. His books were everywhere. Neat, intentional, but everywhere. On the table, the floor, and stacked on the nightstand. Lined beside the couch in strange, perfect symmetry. It looked obsessive. Controlled. It looked like him.

“Hello, Dex,” I said, stepping toward my usual chair.

“Hello, doc,” he replied.

I paused mid-step.

That was new.

He never replied to greetings. Never acknowledged them at all.

I glanced at him, caught his eye, and smiled, almost without meaning to.

“How’s your day going?” I asked casually, settling into my seat.

He didn’t answer with words, just a hum. Low. Dismissive.

Still, it was something.

I nodded and flipped open my notebook, keeping my voice calm. “We’re doing something a little different today.” I watched him carefully. “It’s a writing task. Nothing complicated, I promise. Just a way to understand how you process things, cognitively, emotionally. Reflectively. It helps me observe communication patterns, language, tone-”

He was staring at me.

Not in a casual way.

Staring.

Like he was watching the words form in my mouth before they even came out.

His brows pulled together slightly, the edges of his eyes narrowing.

Squinting.

I swallowed. He knew.

I could feel it.

He wasn’t confused or curious; he was aware.

He knew what this was.

And I was a goddamn idiot for thinking I could pull it off without him catching on.

Still, I pressed on. Professional. Cool. Detached.

I placed the notebook and the pen next to me on the small table between us, keeping my tone even. “Ready?”

He didn’t speak.

Just hummed again.

And smirked.

Oh, you son of a-

I breathed in slowly through my nose, keeping the inhale sharp and quiet. I picked up the notebook, tore the page with the questions out gently, and handed it to him along with the pen.

“Take your time.”

He took them without a word, without meeting my eyes. But I saw it. The corners of his mouth still carried that ghost of a smirk.

He knew.

He knew.

And he was playing along.

He looked down, started reading. Then writing.

The room went still.

Eight minutes passed.

I couldn’t just sit and stare at him, not today, so I let my eyes drift. Across the room. To the books lined up near the couch.

Titles in bold fonts, Black spines. Hardcovers. One after the other. I tilted my head slightly, squinting to read them.

War history.

Tactics. Accounts. Battle memoirs.

Huh.

Oddly specific. Oddly... romanticized.

I glanced over at the stack on his nightstand. Same genre.

Why?

Then, near the small metal table in the corner, the one he sometimes used as a desk, I spotted loose papers. Not messy, not thrown. Just... laid out. Controlled. Intentional.

One page stood out. It was on top. Visible.

A sketch.

Rough. Pencil. Sharp strokes.

It was a-

Flower.

A lily.

I blinked.

Snapped my head toward him. Heart climbing up my throat.

Still writing.

Still pretending.

But I saw it.

The twitch at the corner of his mouth. The slightest lift.

Smirk.

It was him.

He didn’t need to say it. Didn’t need to sign the note or speak a word. He wanted me to find it. To see it. To know.

I inhaled again, deeper this time.

I needed to keep it together.

Be professional.

Stay composed. Calm. Ethical.

Get through the session.

Just get through it.

Minutes passed.

And so did my patience.

My head was spiraling, quietly, tightly, coiling thoughts on top of thoughts while I sat still and tried to look composed. Dex was still writing, eyes on the page like he had all the time in the world. Calm. Precise. His brows barely moved, but his mouth twitched once. A ghost of something. A thought he didn’t say out loud.

Then, finally, he finished.

He handed the notebook back with a slow movement that felt more like a gesture than a task. Like he was handing me something loaded.

"Easy?" I asked.

He hummed.

Just a hum. Casual. Dismissive. Confident.

For some reason, it irritated the hell out of me.

I didn’t know why; maybe it was the smirk earlier. Maybe it was the damn flower. Or the fact that he was sitting there, arms crossed, legs apart, perfectly at ease like he wasn’t the reason my blood pressure was higher than it should be.

I needed to calm down. I knew I did. But it hit a nerve I didn’t expect.

I sat back, straightened my spine, and opened the notebook, eyes skimming over his responses.

But I wasn’t really reading them.

I was pretending to.

I couldn’t focus. Not with him sitting there watching me like that, like I was the one under evaluation. His gaze was heavy, fixed, and intense. I kept my eyes low, but I could feel it on my skin, tracking the way my fingers held the notebook, the way my jaw clenched, the way I blinked too slow.

Still, I looked. These were the answers:

Describe the last time you felt something you couldn’t explain.

   If I knew how to explain it, I would.

Oh okay bitch, no need for the attitude.

2. Describe a memory you come back to often. Why that one?

   Manipulation in their voices and faces. When I couldn’t detect it in the beginning till I saw their truth.

3. What emotion is hardest for you to admit to, and why?

   I dont know

4. Describe a place where you felt completely safe. What made it feel that way?

   Don’t know, yet.

5. How do you think people see you? How does that differ from how you see yourself?

   They see someone dangerous. I see someone is, but trying not to be.

I skimmed them again, but none of it was sinking in, not really. Not now. I'd analyze it later. Right now, I just need to get through the session.

I hummed a neutral sound and closed the notebook, setting it aside.

“Good job. Do you-”

“You didn’t read it.”

My head snapped up.

“What?”

“My answers. You didn’t read them.”

Still arms crossed. Still, that posture, settled. Confident. Cocky, even.

“Yes, I did,” I replied quickly, more defensive than I meant to sound.

He hummed again, nodding once. Slow. I could practically hear the “sure you did” in that silence.

It got under my skin.

I shifted in my seat, not subtly. Not dramatic either. Just enough for him to look back at me, eyes narrowed.

I cleared my throat. “So,” I said, nodding toward the couch, “interested in war-themed books?”

He turned his head slightly, followed my gaze. Looked at the stack by the couch, the nightstand, and the corner of the floor. All arranged. Not scattered.

He hummed again, confirmation.

“Why war?”

He shrugged. Just a small one, barely there.

“It’s interesting.”

“How? What’s interesting about it?” I held eye contact. I wasn’t playing anymore. I needed to get the edge off. He tilted his head, brows drawing slightly. Then said-

“Is this session just a writing task, or are we going to have a patient-talks-to-doctor session?”

Before I could respond, he followed it up-

“Or is this a personal session, Doctor Y/L/N?”

The way he said it.

Low. Frowned. Controlled.

He didn’t like my tone.

The atmosphere shifted. The air felt thicker, like it had weight. Like something unspoken had entered the room and refused to leave.

What was quiet before now felt tense. Charged. Almost... angry.

Like the room itself didn’t agree with me.

I stared at him.

Held it.

“The writing was just an exercise,” I said calmly. “We’re supposed to have a regular session.” Then I gathered my things, kept my voice measured. “But I think we should end today’s session with just the exercise.”

I stood up.

“That’s it for today.”

Professional. Detached. Barely. But there was heat in it. A low, quiet kind of anger I couldn’t hide anymore.

I got up from my seat.

But he didn’t let me.

“No. That’s not it.”

Before I could process what he said, he stood up.

That alone made the room shift.

Dex never stood during our sessions. He always stayed seated, sprawled out, casual, in control. But this… this was different.

He stood.

And suddenly I remembered how tall he was. How solid.

His build, always hidden in posture and shadows, was now unmistakable. Lean muscle beneath the black sweatshirt. Broad shoulders. Defined arms. And as he stepped toward me, slow, steady, I could feel the air thicken.

Then his hand wrapped around my arm.

Not hard. Not painful. Just firm.

My breath caught.

“Dex,” I warned, voice quiet.

He didn’t speak.

His grip didn’t tighten, but he didn’t let go either.

The tension in the room snapped into something alive. Almost volatile.

My eyes flicked up to meet his, and instantly regretted it.

His stare was direct. Unblinking. Like he was trying to read through me, and succeeding.

I wasn’t used to him standing. I wasn’t used to this.

Everything about him felt more,

More there.

More man than patient.

More danger than diagnosis.

his scent hit me next, If my eyes could roll back far enough to see my own brain, they would. divine.

My spine hit the wall before I realized I’d backed into it. He hadn’t pushed me. He didn’t need to. I ended up there on my own, like my body had given up trying to reason with my mind.

“Let go of me,” I said softly, eyes somewhere near his collarbone. Anywhere but his face.

He didn’t.

Not yet.

His hand slid down my arm, slow, fingers ghosting over fabric until it fell away entirely.

But he stayed close.

So close I could feel the heat off his chest, even though we weren’t touching.

My mouth was dry.

I didn’t know what to say. What to do.

I stared at the floor, forcing my breath to stay even.

“Look at me.”

The words were low. A command.

I didn’t.

I couldn’t.

So he waited.

And waited.

Until the weight of the silence made it unbearable.

When I finally looked up, he was already watching me, unreadable, restrained, and just barely holding something back.

My lips parted like I was going to speak, but nothing came out.

He tilted his head, just slightly, his expression still. His eyes dipped to my mouth. Then backup.

He didn’t move in.

Didn’t touch me again.

But it didn’t matter.

Because we were already past something.

And I knew it.

So did he.

The air between us held the question neither of us had asked.

He didn’t move. Not really. Just stood there, looking at me like he already knew the answer to something I hadn’t figured out yet.

My back was still pressed to the wall, chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven waves. His proximity was maddening. His silence, worse. But I didn’t step away. I didn’t tell him to.

And he didn’t take advantage of that, either.

He just… looked at me.

Not with softness.

Not with cruelty.

Just focus.

Like I was something to be studied. Like I was something he already understood, but wanted to feel again, just to be sure.

His hand came up again, slow, deliberate. Fingers brushing the edge of my jaw. Barely there. Barely a whisper. He was giving me the chance to pull away.

I didn’t.

His knuckles skimmed the line of my jaw, then fell.

And for a moment, I thought that was it.

But then he leaned in just a breath closer, and my heart launched itself into my throat. My hands stayed at my sides, begging to reach but couldn’t. I was frozen in place, and every part of me was aware of how close he was.

Still no kiss.

Just... that unbearable space between almost and too far.

I whispered, barely audible, “Dex…”

He stopped.

Close enough that I could feel his breath when he answered with a hum.

“hmm”

His voice was low.

I swallowed hard. My voice didn’t come.

My eyes flicked to his.

And he saw everything.

He always did.

But instead of closing the gap, instead of giving in to what that silence was begging for-

He pulled back.

Just an inch.

Enough to let me breathe again.

Enough to let me ache.

His lips curved, just slightly. A quiet, satisfied thing. Not a smirk. Not smugness.

Something more dangerous.

He stepped away.

No words. No explanation.

The session was over.

─────── ⌖ ───────

I know, I know, I’m so sorry. but trust me… it’s going to get good.

(Or will it?)

chapter 9 is in the works, will probably upload it today or tomorrow.

yours truly,

Raey ♡

─────── ⌖ ───────

[ next chapter ]

[hauntedbubbles]

Since I wouldn't accept that OG Modern Warfare gave us Captain MacTavish, only for reboot Soap to never survive past Sargeant (!?😩) I've been sitting on a theory that Black Ops 6 might have actually confirmed and I can't keep this to myself any longer!

This could be spoilery for BO6's campaign, so if you haven't played it yet, come back later, maybe? 👀

In the "Emergence" mission in BO6 you are introduced to the effects of the "Cradle" a virus created by a disbanded division of the CIA, known as "Pantheon". A virus that is later weaponised and you experience first hand what this yellow gas can do... 🧟‍♀️🧟‍♂️🧟

Some folks voiced their displeasure about how un-cod it was... personally this mission was all the confirmation I needed that maybe my working theory wasn't as far fetched as I thought it could be 👀

I was going to ramble and infodump all the little things I'd been making note off, but instead I decided to make it a thing... With a Blender piece I did, because why not? 🙌🏻

👇🏻👇🏻👇🏻👇🏻👇🏻

Konni Research Division

Date: October 17, 2024

Project Lead: Dr. Aleksandr Gustev, Head of Advanced Pathological Research

————————————————————————

PANTHEON NEUROGAS “CRADLE VARIANT K" CASE STUDY: SERGEANT JOHN “SOAP” MACTAVISH

————————————————————————

Current Project Objectives

Konni Research Division’s objectives are to further refine the Cradle compound—specifically, the “Cradle Variant K” strain—to allow for long-term memory suppression, reality manipulation, and controllable cognitive reprogramming.

————————————————————————

Following the success in London, Cradle Variant K far surpassed our initial expectations. Not only were we successful in deceiving the Task Force into believing Sergeant MacTavish was KIA at the hands of the Commander, we have laid the groundwork for further applications of the Pantheon's weaponised neurogas on a larger scale.

Additionally, the changes made to the Cradle strain appears to have maintained the diminished uncontrollable rage as observed in our earlier controlled trials.

Curiously, the illusion may have directly fueled the sense of vengeance that drove Captain Price to retaliate in an unexpected manner.

By executing General Shepherd in a rogue act, he ultimately severed Task Force 141 from official military backing and initiated a sequence of destabilizing events.

Further testing will be required to ascertain if Price’s reckless actions were a direct result of being exposed to the Cradle’s illusion or an emotional response to failing to protect one of his men.

Regardless, the Commander's suggestion to target MacTavish for the next phase of the experiment has certainly proven fruitful.

————————————————————————

Test Subject Conditioning Protocol

Subject Identification

Name: Sergeant John “Soap” MacTavish

Classification: Task Force 141 Operative

Current Status: High-priority test subject under secure containment

MacTavish was expected to perform complex missions while fully immersed in an artificial narrative, where he believes he is combating a zombie outbreak as part of “Operation Deadbolt.” This ongoing experiment aims to suppress higher cognitive recall.

————————————————————————

Manipulated Perceptions and Key Figures in the Simulation

Kate Laswell’s Role and Conditioning: Laswell, similarly detained and conditioned, was initially positioned as MacTavish’s operational coordinator.

Her familiar voice served as a mission directive channel, further reinforcing his immersion in the Deadbolt narrative. However, Laswell’s stability deteriorated during preliminary conditioning cycles, necessitating her withdrawal from active mission guidance and her relegation to containment status.

With further extensive conditioning sessions being required, (due to her apparent excessive resistance training under the CIA) in preparation to reinstate a reconditioned Laswell within a disavowed TF141.

Confident they will attempt to rescue one of their own, a chance to witness the prolonged effects of the Cradle and MacTavish’s absence on our targets should present itself.

We hypothesise that a growing lack of external support will surely weaken morale further in preparation for the Commanders final stand against Farah Karim’s forces and her devalued allies.

Viktor Zakhaev as Adversary: Viktor Zakhaev, eliminated by Captain John Price circa 2020, has been reinstated as a familiar antagonist within MacTavish’s induced perception.

Konni scientists strategically inserted Zakhaev’s persona into the subject’s narrative, where he functions as a persistent threat linked to a global threat.

This resurrected adversary fuels MacTavish’s sense of purpose and suppresses any awareness of the Commander’s true objectives. By sustaining a continuous “enemy” figure, we maintain an environment that supports heightened vigilance, while suppressing any remnants of personal connections.

Sergei Ravenov as Mentor: Historical data on Sergei Ravenov, a former Soviet operative and Cradle test subject during the Cold War, has been utilized as a psychological anchor within MacTavish’s mental construct.

Footage of Ravenov’s conditioning sessions has been repurposed to present him as a veteran mentor in the fight against the "Undead," a fabricated threat tied to an earlier experimental initiative known as Aetherium (an internal code once used for the Cradle virus).

Ravenov serves as an authority, the “Dark Aether Expert,” providing MacTavish with insights on how to “combat the outbreak,” further reinforcing the constructed narrative and validating the subject’s current mission reality.

Despite the risks of introducing an unknown persona, the results will establish how important familiar anchors are to the Cradle test subjects.

————————————————————————

Subject Response and Reality Simulation: Operation Deadbolt

MacTavish has demonstrated exceptional receptivity to Cradle-Variant K, which induces controlled delusional experiences, allowing him to perceive a fictitious outbreak setting.

Under the codename “Operation Deadbolt,” MacTavish believes he is conducting a tactical offensive against “infected” entities across Urzikstan.

Farah Karim’s militia, in reality, are recast as hostiles in this outbreak scenario, instilling a sense of urgency and commitment in MacTavish as he pursues mission directives designed to ultimately bring Urzikstan under Konni control.

In this altered reality, MacTavish perceives himself as an essential operative within Operation Deadbolt, believing he is containing and eradicating “dimensional breaches” and combating the spread of Aetherium. Laswell’s pre-recorded directives have been integrated into mission audio logs, lending an air of authenticity to the simulation.

————————————————————————

Findings and Psychological Anchoring

To ensure compliance, MacTavish’s memories have been regressed to 2021—a period prior to the formation of his stronger bonds with Task Force members, but where his potential truly began to establish.

This strategic temporal regression isolates MacTavish from critical relationships that might disrupt his immersion in the fabricated narrative and allow his growth to better align with Konni standards.

Under these conditions, he perceives himself as a newly recruited operative, acting as “Head of Strike Team” under Operation Deadbolt, with diminished awareness of his personal history.

Lieutenant Simon “Ghost” Riley as an Unintended Psychological Anchor: During testing, sporadic cognitive resistance has continued to manifest, specifically when MacTavish encounters stimuli reminiscent of Lieutenant Riley. Notably, Riley’s masked “Ghost” persona.

Although he cannot consciously access these memories, MacTavish displays signs of awareness regression, often reverting to behaviors and beliefs beyond 2021.

Such interactions appear to intermittently destabilize Cradle’s hold over MacTavish. The bond with his former ally has proven resilient, risking periodic disruptions in mission adherence

Countermeasures and Long-Term Stability Adjustments: To mitigate the effects of these “Ghost-associated triggers.”

Konni researchers are employing additional neuro-blocking compounds aimed at obscuring memory pathways tied to Riley. Continuous reconditioning sessions, using Ravenov’s image as an alternate anchor, have thus far yielded moderate success, although sustained behavioral control will likely necessitate further neurological suppressants or targeted memory erasure.

————————————————————————

Conclusion and Tactical Recommendations

Summary of Findings

High Receptivity: MacTavish’s response to Cradle-Variant K exceeds projections, with 95% adherence to mission parameters and minimal cognitive resistance when Ghost-associated stimuli are absent.

Effective Delusional Construct: The subject accepts the Operation Deadbolt scenario as reality, performing his role without critical assessment.

Resistance Countermeasures: The occasional reversion to past memory states requires enhanced countermeasures. Ravenov’s role as mentor and Zakhaev’s reintroduced presence are proving effective in reinforcing the subject’s altered perception.

Recommended Next Steps

1. Strengthen Aetherium Construct: Enhance the Dark Aether narrative by introducing mission-specific “dimensional breaches” to maintain environmental consistency.

2. Memory Reinforcement Sessions: Increase frequency of Ravenov-anchored memory sessions to deepen the mentor-student dynamic and prevent memory destabilization tied to Ghost.

Laswell’s voice should remain a final fallback command anchor in all simulations; if required, brief audio segments can be played during moments of cognitive resistance to redirect the subject’s focus back to mission directives, until a deep fake can be established.

Project Status: ACTIVE – Phase IV trials awaiting authorisation for continuation of field deployment.

Suggested Operation Target: Popov Power Plant.

————————————————————————

End of Report

[wosospacegirl]

okay so some more millie ideas so I can remove them from my head 😂

- sick fic with Millie: y/n hides being sick and goes to training anyway, ofc her dumbass eventually passes out and she hits her head on the way down. Maybe she gets a concussion and then Millie has to do concussion protocol (wake her up every couple hours) and y/n is not happy about being woken up every 1-2 hours

- smutty Millie fic: Millie is usually the more dominant one in the relationship. During training y/n overhears Millie talking to her friends at training about how she’s tired of doing all the work in relationships (millie was talking about friendships and y/n misunderstands). When Millie gets home later that evening, maybe she had captain duties, y/n jumps on her and starts kissing her and guiding her to the bedroom

- Lionesses x teen reader: Y/n puts a lot of pressure on herself. Millie and Lucy are aware of this and have talked to her about it in the club. However, after an own goal during her lionesses debut, y/n shuts down. Millie tries talking to her on the bus back to the hotel, but it doesn’t help. Then y/n goes back to her hotel room and tells the younger kids she’ll just go to bed and skip dinner downstairs. Ofc Millie and Lucy notice she isn’t there and ask after her, then go up to try drag her down to eat. They find her having a panic attack. (maybe she has hurt herself and y/n tries to hide the blood, but it starts bleeding through her clothes. IF YOU’RE COMFORTABLE WRITING THIS)

-🦦

Sick fic: STOP!!! Hahahhahahah omg i can only feel yn's frustrating????

"Hey, wake up, wake up, wake up!!!" Millie says as she pokes yn through the blanket

"I'll cough in your face if you wake me up one last time" yn said in a warning tone, but her red and stuffed nose took off all the threatening out of it. "And then you get sick just like me, and I'll do the exact same thing"

Millie lifts an eyebrow. "Ok, first: I'm not waking you up because you got the flu. I'm doing that because you trained WHILE you were sick, and then you PASSED OUT!!! And now I have to wake you up every 30 minutes to make sure you aren't brain damaged!!!!"

Yn mumbled something and buried her face in the pillow again.

"Second," Millie continued, ignoring yn. "You would get ME sick?"

"Uhum," yn nodded, eyes already closed. "Let me sleep now. You already saw that I'm doing good."

"Enjoy your nap," millie said, rolling her eyes. "I'll make sure to wake you up again soon."

"Don't you dare."

Smutty fic: ok this is a good yn because I can see Millie being like?? Hmmm ok?? As soon as yn starts kissing her.

"Oh wow, okay," Millie said, gently holding Yn's arms and trying to put some distance between them. "What's going on, baby?"

Yn tilted her head, pout on her face. "What do you mean? I'm just kissing you."

"Yeah, but why like that?"

"Like what?!!"

"Like you wanna bite my lips off!" Millie said.

It's not that yn never initiates anything, but she's sure more on the receiving side of this. She always gave very subtle clues when she wanted to be intimate... She never just straight up initiated a whole making out session in their living room.

And then yn says that she heard why millie was saying and she started to think that maybe she should have a bit more attitude on the bedroom and theeen millie explains that they weren't talking about their relationship.

And yn feel a bit dumb cus ok!!!!! That's embarrassing!!!

But millie is like... "but if YOU do want to be more dominant we can totally do that, no need to jump on my out of nowhere while i still have my boots on!!!" And then maybe millie lets yn have more control while also teaching her??

Teen reader: oh and yn is always so bubbly ans happy, she's that kind of person who laughs when she trips, etc

But then she just can't justify the own goal she did while playing... maybe she played as a senior before, but only on friendlies, so this is her first serious game.

When it happens, she just straight-up hides her face on her shirt, but then the older girls are there giving her support. At the end Y/n scores an actual goal, but she's still upset about the own goal

I think that maybe yn can press her nails real hard against her skin, like enough to draw blood, but because they are minor cuts, the girl doesn't notice it at first, but then they have to go to the ice bath so yn had to wear a gym to,p and they noticed.

and the girl all try to comfort anf really talk to her that mistakes happen all the time, it's part of the game

Love them all bestie so much!! Im gonna write them when i can!!!!!!!!! <3

[taxes-evasion]

𝑅𝐸𝐿𝐴𝑇𝐼𝑂𝑁𝑆𝐻𝐼𝑃 𝐻𝐸𝐴𝐷𝐶𝐴𝑁𝑂𝑁𝑆 𝐹𝑂𝑅 𝑆𝐶𝑃 049

Requested by: a friend of mine

Main Characters: SCP 049 and Female Scientist!Reader

Warnings: mention of death, blood, operations on corpses, something similar to zombies (?), bringing people and/or animals back to life, injections

𝗙𝗜𝗥𝗦𝗧 𝗠𝗘𝗘𝗧𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦

YOUR POV:

Being a doctor of the SCP Foundation, your job included working closely with anomalies, where possible.

But you're also an incredibly good doctor, then you find yourself working in multiple areas of the Foundation.

When some doctors are injured or directly killed by SCP 049, you are immediately turned over to it, after all all the SCPs you have worked with have been very cooperative after meeting you.

When you are given the SCP 049 file you are immediately interested about him, on a scientific level.

Observe his physical characteristics, his verbal and non-verbal behaviors.

You wonder if the previous doctors were total incompetents, it seems so easy to maintain a good relationship with him.

After a while you start working in the field and, being intelligent enough, you decide to approach the Plague Doctor with serenity and professionalism, without belittling his work in any way.

He was initially very suspicious, for some reason unknown to you, but he still answered your questions fluently and sincerely, hopefully.

In some cases he even tried to break the barrier of professionalism that separated you from him and, in moments of awkward silence during your interviews, he would ask questions about your life outside of work.

Of course you gently declined to answer.

But it was strange, something like this had never happened to any of the previous doctors before...

At the end of the interview you were very satisfied, certainly those questions he asked you were suspicious, but you would have talked about them with one of your superiors to find out how you should behave.

After speaking with some of your superiors you come to the conclusion that, at least for the moment, you could continue not to answer SCP 049's question.

In the following days you continue to study your "patient" a lot.

You are slightly intrigued by this "Pestilence" and would like to know more about it.

However, from what you notice from the recordings with your former colleagues, even SCP 049 doesn't know precisely what this Pestilence is.

You are slightly disappointed.

As per protocol, for a couple of weeks, unless requested by the SCP, there are no sessions.

However, you are informed about what happens in the containment cell.

It's brought back to you that SCP 049 was very restless, more aggressive towards personnel and corpses granted to him by the Foundation.

HIS POV:

On the other hand, what could SCP 049 says about you?

Since he had been warned that a new doctor would take him on as their "patient", he was initially bored.

All the previous doctors were sub-par and definitely infected with the Pestilence, you couldn't be any different, right?

But when he sees you for the first time he is surprised and intrigued at the same time...

You were definitely infected but... it was as if the Pestilence was... attenuated and weaker than the other people who worked in the Foundation.

He was excited, for the first time he had someone different at his fingertips and he wouldn't let the opportunity slip away.

Obviously he had to hide his emotion at meeting you... but he couldn't hold his tongue and, in some cases, he ended up asking you questions about your private life.

It's not that he was interested in your life outside of the SCP Foundation but there was no harm in assuming that the Disease could develop according to a specific pattern of things like: food, routines, etc...

At the end of the interview he was slightly annoyed.

Obviously he knew that you had to maintain a certain confidentiality towards yourself but you could have at least answered one question!

In the following days he really can't concentrate on his work.

All he can think about is you.

Unfortunately not in a good way.

He practically trembles every time he imagines your body's possible reactions to his injections.

However, his work does not remain entirely blocked by his thoughts.

He attacks the Class Ds and the animal corpses that are delivered to him with great violence.

He's so distracted that he can barely create those sort of "zombies".

He ends up getting internally angry with you.

𝗪𝗛𝗔𝗧 𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗣𝗘𝗡𝗦 𝗔𝗙𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗧𝗛𝗔𝗧?

YOUR POV:

There were only a few days left and you would finally see SCP 049 again.

It seemed like an eternity had passed and the guards continued to report less than good news.

You really couldn't figure out what was wrong... it was mentally taxing and exhausting, everything SCP 049 required was provided but he continued to be aggressive and in some cases, he even attacked guards.

You had already been called out several times by the director, he was pissed, he was losing Class D visibly but you certainly couldn't do much about it.

Finally those few days pass and, as soon as you arrive to the Foundation, you immediately rush to request a meeting with SCP 049, obviously it is granted to you immediately.

But... something doesn't seem right...

As soon as he sees you his behavior remains calm exactly like the first time you met but you could sense that it was just a facade.

As you ask him questions about the incidents of the previous weeks you desperately search for something in his behavior that hints at his true emotions but without much success.

You felt a much stronger feeling of uneasiness than the time before, you felt that there was coldness in his tone and you could clearly see his eyes observing you with extreme attention.

"So... I have been told that some incidents quite unpleasant have occurred, both for the Foundation and for you, is that correct?"

You begin, carefully calibrating your words so as not to annoy him.

Silence falls in the room, a minute passes, then two and in the end you decide to resume the discussion to get to the point, however you are stopped by his sharp voice that abruptly breaks the silence...

HIS POV:

Time for SCP 049 had passed extremely slowly.

Like, he couldn't wait to see you (and get his hands on you).

But as soon as he saw you already sitting in your chair in the meeting room he couldn't help but have mixed feelings.

You certainly were affected by the Pestilence, you were neither different nor special from the other sickly corpses and doctors he had used before.

He looks at you coldly as you prepare everything on the metal table.

It was incredible how he didn't want to cure you, after all the Pestilence, as he had discovered the first time, was inside you but lesser than all other beings.

He knew full well that he would kill you if he even tried to touch you.

Was it worth wasting someone so rare to make such a trivial mistake?

It would ruin his ego so much that he couldn't stand it.

When you asked him the question he knew it was coming, his nervousness and aggression from the previous days had been really hard, even for him.

Even lavender, the method used to calm him, no longer worked well.

Making it 100% a time bomb ready to explode.

However he wanted to give you an explanation, after all a doctor had to be honest with his patient first, right?

Before you could pick up the discussion again, he decided to answer you.

"My dear Doctor, I want to be honest with you since you have shown me that you know how to listen and reason with adequate intelligence... I find you very interesting, on a scientific level obviously."

He weighs the words he speaks carefully too, slowly resting his elbows on the metal table and crossing his fingers together, his cold eyes never leaving your figure.

"You know well about the Pestilence that I have been trying to heal for God knows how long, as you may well think you are infected with it too but it is as if the Sickness in you is somehow weaker."

He continues to explain while observing your every reaction, what he was about to propose to you he had never done with anyone...

You should have been grateful that he was giving you a chance to work closely with him.

"Going straight to the point, I wanted to make you a proposal: I would like to give you some medical examinations, for a period of time that we will establish if you accept, and ask you some questions about your lifestyle, obviously in my containment cell, which is also my laboratory."

He holds back a giggle when he sees you widen your eyes and hold your breath.

"Obviously I won't treat you like any other patient because I clearly see that you are not like everyone else, so I won't give you any operations or injections. After all, I need you alive and I wouldn't get any benefit from trying to cure you."

Having said this he gets up, without ever taking his gaze away from yours, the sound of the door opening behind him momentarily breaks the silence. l

"That said, I'll leave you to your thoughts, Doctor. I anxiously await your definitive answer."

He feels your gaze boring into his back as he walks through the door back to his holding cell.

Maybe it was risky to make such a bold request but SCP 049 knew he had the upper hand.

After all, if they ever tried to take his new little patient away from him, it wouldn't take him long to break out and go get her for himself.

𝗪𝗛𝗔𝗧 𝗜𝗦 𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗥 𝗙𝗜𝗡𝗔𝗟 𝗔𝗡𝗦𝗪𝗘𝗥?

YOUR POV:

Damn, that request had left you confused and disarmed.

But the fact that the top levels of the Foundation had given consent to this absurd thing had left you even more frustrated.

Of course SCP 049 intrigued you quite a bit and you would have liked to see him at work more closely... but as his "patient"? Hell no, you wouldn't have done that.

...

Yet here you are walking towards his containment cell.

The response from the top levels had arrived very quickly, precisely the day after the meeting with the famous Plague Doctor.

Given the reason for your visit to SCP 049, you dressed like any ordinary citizen, except for the identification tag that allowed you to access the Foundation.

Before entering the containment cell, the guards inform you that SCP 049 had already been informed of your visit and that he had already cleaned his laboratory, also clearing it of some corpses.

You didn't know if you should feel honored or not.

When the doors finally open to allow you to enter the cell, you can't help but feel a shiver down your spine.

DEVELOPMENT OF FEELINGS

YOUR POV:

Hell, you had to admit, SCP 049, for a literal monster with no feelings (or so you thought), was extremely nice.

Sometimes he even made some jokes!

Even though you knew absolutely nothing about his past you were, somehow, attracted to him.

The embarrassing thing was that you had spent relatively little time actually with him.

Since he remained an SCP you couldn't spend too long chatting with him, even though SCP 049 swore on his name that he wouldn't do anything to hurt you.

The frustrating thing is that, as a Foundation doctor, you couldn't possibly have feelings for an SCP.

The Foundation's rules were clear: no romantic or carnal relationships, except for possible exceptions, between an SCP and a doctor.

You were really hoping that SCP 049 wouldn't notice your stares to watch him when he was closer or feels your heart rate increase.

HIS POV:

Of course he had noticed.

And he found it very cute.

He knew very well what you risked in having romantic feelings for each other.

To tell the truth, he didn't even know when he started having these feelings.

It all started when he started asking you simple questions about your routine...

And then he wanted to know EVERYTHING about you and what you did with your life outside of the Foundation.

He was slightly anxious about this feelings stuff.

I mean, he had thought about it and had even thought about kidnapping you and keeping you forever in his cell until your human nature had run its course and, even in that case, he would have guarded your corpse with morbid affection.

But he had quickly discarded the idea, after all you were still his Doctor.

He really admired you, you were professional like few others and he bet that you had worked hard to get a position in the Foundation.

He didn't want to take this victory away from your life.

If you were Class-D he wouldn't have taken any time to keep you locked up with him, but that wasn't the case.

Unfortunately you were actually his favorite Doctor.

He wouldn't lose you that easily.

THE CONFESSION OF FEELINGS

HIS POV:

It all happens very quickly, SCP 049, as soon as he has the chance, confesses his feelings.

And he does it in a very... eccentric way, so to speak.

He does this while an SCP containment breach is in progress.

Obviously the first thing he does is go and look for you, just in a few minutes you should have met him for a normal interview, in this case him as a "patient" and you in the role of Doctor of the Foundation.

And when he sees you, damn, he couldn't be happier.

Seeing you use him as a real shield and entrusting your life to him increased his ego enormously.

Maybe he would start escaping more often now that he had a real reason to do so.

Red lights flashed outside a random Class D cell you found unlocked, you entered without hesitation as the guards began running down the corridor to try to contain the SCPs who were quickly escaping from their containment cells. Unfortunately, some SCP had already possibly passed through the cell, most likely 173 given that a dead body was lying with his broken neck in plain sight on the floor.

Unfortunately the door, given the short circuit that had occurred in the Foundation, could not be closed so you were stuck there. You try to hide in a corner, hoping that your body will be hidden by the walls if any SCP were to pass in the corridor.

The sound of the siren was so deafening that it made you even more anxious than before.

Although you had been working for the Foundation for a few years, containment breaches rarely occurred and, on the rare and unfortunate occasions they happened, you always found yourself in safe areas. But now? There was no way you could survive an SCP attack, well, except maybe with 049, but to the others you were totally defenseless as no weapons were issued to the Foundation Doctors.

You jump silently when you hear footsteps: slow, calculating and unhurried, as if someone was looking for something, or worse, someone.

You curl up into a ball, pushing your back as hard as you can against the wall, as if hoping it would suck you in, hiding you from whatever being was out in the hallway. Your heartbeat thunders louder and louder in your ears as your limbs start to go numb, you hide your face, resting your forehead on your knees hoping that the rule 'if you don't see it, it doesn't see you' still applies.

You realize that you have closed your eyes only when a hand rests on your head and you open them, looking with fear at the black color of your jeans. The touch didn't seem aggressive but it certainly couldn't be a guard.

"Now, now, my dear Doctor, don't be so scared, this feeling doesn't suit you when you have me on your side." The voice was soft and, at first glance, extremely false, but you would have recognized it among a thousand. You snap your head up and breathe a sigh of relief when you see SCP 049 looking at you amusedly. "You scared me, 049..." You murmur as you grab his hand that he held out to help you up. You are amazed at how quickly and effortlessly the SCP gets you to your feet, although you shouldn't be too surprised, after all he wasn't human.

"Oh my dear, I'm absolutely sorry about that, I swear that wasn't my intention..." You can clearly hear the falseness in his voice, his eyes narrowing on your figure, amusement swirling in them like a storm. "But now that I'm here I can protect you and... well, talk to you about a certain thing that we couldn't have talked about if we were being monitored." You raise an eyebrow as you look at him, bringing his arms behind his back. “I think you're not like everyone else and I'm not talking from a medical point of view.” Your eyes widen but you decide to stay silent anyway, not wanting to interrupt him, but you couldn't stop your heart from beating faster. "At first I was curious: I wanted to cut you open, break your delicate human skin, see your blood flow, analyze every. single. little. cell of your body..." SCP 049 begins to narrate as he starts to walk around the small containment cell, his eyes, however, never leave you. "But after thinking carefully, I realized that it wouldn't be... optimal for my research." He sighs, as if he hasn't actually put the idea completely out of his mind. "Long story short, you have become my favorite human, be grateful for that." He finishes, stopping his walk right in front of you, perhaps slightly closer than before. "I don't want to know how you feel about me, I don't care, just know that, unfortunately, I can't just kidnap you and keep you in my lab but... if it ever becomes necessary you better remember that I won't hesitate to do so." His tone becomes increasingly colder and more menacing as he goes on, concluding, in the end, with an actual threat.

He doesn't say anything after that and you don't feel the strength to say anything, after a while your legs give out and you find yourself sitting on the cold floor. SCP 049 positions himself in front of the cell entrance, like a guard dog that protects the owner, until the end of the containment breach where he is subsequently escorted to his laboratory.

Obviously greeting you with a sweetness that was too clingy to make you feel comfortable.

Hope this satisfies the request!

I will write the headcanons for Kate as soon as possible.

[sacredfixation]

Mobius files a report on the misuse of the metaphor kit he gave Loki

TVA REPORT – INCIDENT #58738:

Distribution and misuse of Dedicated Metaphor Kit, a Post-Incident Analysis

Filed by: Agent Mobius M. Mobius

Date: [REDACTED]

Subject: Laufeyson, Loki

Incident Summary:

Following a series of disruptions, including but not limited to the unauthorized confiscation of my lunch (henceforth referred to as The Salad Incident), a decision was made to provide Loki with a “Metaphor Kit.” The kit was intended as a pedagogical tool, designed to aid the Variant in understanding abstract concepts without resorting to the destruction of personal property. Items included:

• One (1) foam apple (temptation)

• One (1) rubber frog (chaotic leaps into action)

• One (1) small sand timer (time management and consequences)

• One (1) rubber chicken (disruption and disorder)

The kit was presented to the Variant under strict guidelines for appropriate use, which were immediately ignored.

Immediate Outcome:

• Loki expressed initial amusement, followed by sustained misuse of the provided materials.

• The foam apple became a recurring prop during mission debriefs, often accompanied by sarcastic monologues.

• The sand timer was repeatedly flipped during tense moments, exacerbating existing tensions in high-pressure situations.

• The rubber chicken was deployed in multiple inappropriate contexts, including as a distraction during a classified briefing.

• The rubber frog was used symbolically to mock my efforts at maintaining order, culminating in an unauthorized “leap” onto my desk during work hours.

Impact on Agent Mobius:

• Emotional Toll: Elevated stress levels resulting from constant ridicule and prop-related disruptions.

• Workplace Disruption: Significant time lost attempting to refocus Loki after metaphor kit-related antics.

• Personal Well-being: Persistent headaches reported, likely caused by repeated interactions with the rubber chicken.

Recommendations:

1. Discontinue the use of metaphor kits with Loki

2. Institute a stricter no-prop policy during debriefings.

3. Consider mandatory “Respecting Personal Space and Property” workshops for Loki.

4. Implement mandatory approval process for new teaching methods

Any future attempts to introduce non-standard educational tools or methods to Loki should require pre-approval from senior TVA staff, preferably after thorough risk assessment.

5. Establish designated metaphor-free zones

Common areas such as the cafeteria, briefing rooms, and hallways should be designated as metaphor-free zones to prevent Loki from staging impromptu ‘lessons.’

6. Introduce a post-incident recovery protocol for affected agents

Several agents expressed confusion and mild existential distress following Loki’s metaphor lessons. Consider introducing a support group or brief counseling sessions for agents exposed to prolonged philosophical ramblings.

7. Avoid future attempts to teach Loki lessons through tangible items, this approach is prone to backfire in unpredictable and highly irritating ways.

Agent Commentary:

I initially believed that providing Loki with a non-consumable, symbolic toolset would curb his tendency to disrupt order. Instead, I inadvertently handed him an arsenal of chaos disguised as learning aids. Loki now considers himself a ‘Master of Metaphors’ and insists on offering unsolicited ‘lessons’ to fellow agents, turning the office into something resembling a chaotic philosophy seminar. In hindsight, expecting Loki to handle anything with seriousness was a lapse in judgment. I regret everything.

Conclusion:

This experiment has proven that attempting to outsmart Loki Laufeyson with symbolic gestures or educational tools is futile. Future containment strategies should prioritize direct action over clever solutions. Attempts at intellectual engagement will inevitably lead to frustration, chaos, and, in my case, severe metaphor-induced migraines.

End of Report

[jettjournals]

Focus and Flow: Training with Iso | SFW

ISO x READER (VALORANT)

oneshot

You sit in the Valorant Protocol common room, the hum of activity around you as agents move about their day. Having recently joined the Valorant Protocol, every moment feels like an opportunity to prove yourself. Iso sits across from you, earbuds in and his head bobbing slightly to a beat only he can hear. His eyes are closed, but you can tell he's aware of everything going on around him.

As a newcomer, you feel the weight of expectation pressing down on you. You know you have to prove your worth to your teammates, especially to someone as skilled and respected as Iso. You've heard stories of his legendary aim and his ability to turn the tide of any battle. If you want to earn his respect, you'll need to show him what you're made of.

"Hey," you say, trying to get his attention. He opens one eye, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. He pulls out one earbud, and you catch a snippet of a song.

"What's up?" he asks, his voice smooth and relaxed.

You hesitate for a moment, feeling a bit shy about asking for help. But you swallow your nerves and speak up, "I was wondering if you could help me with my shooting practice."

Iso's smirk widens, and he nods in agreement. "Sure thing," he replies, standing up and stretching. "Let's head to the range."

As you walk side by side, you can't help but steal glances at Iso when he's not looking. There's something about the way he carries himself, the confidence in his stride, that makes your heart flutter. You've admired him from afar since the moment you joined the team, but you never imagined you'd get the chance to spend time alone with him like this.

At the range, Iso takes the time to patiently guide you through the basics, offering gentle encouragement and helpful tips along the way. His touch sends a jolt of electricity through you, and you find yourself craving more of his attention with each passing moment. You can't deny the rush of excitement that courses through you whenever his hand brushes against yours, or when his warm breath tickles your ear as he leans in to offer guidance.

Despite your initial nervousness, you find yourself quickly getting into the rhythm of things, the tension easing from your shoulders with each shot. And as the session progresses, you can't help but notice the way Iso's eyes light up with pride whenever you hit the target dead center. It's a small gesture, but it fills you with a sense of accomplishment unlike anything you've ever felt before.

Finally, as the session comes to an end, you look up to see Iso watching you with a soft smile on his face. "You're a natural," he says, his voice filled with genuine admiration. "With a bit more practice, you'll be unstoppable."

You feel a warm flush spread across your cheeks at his praise, knowing that you've made him proud. And as you pack up your gear and head back to base, you can't help but feel a flutter of excitement in your chest at the thought of spending more time with Iso in the future. Maybe, just maybe, there's a chance that your crush on him isn't as one-sided as you thought.